Eyes Like the Ocean
by bballgirl32
Summary: This is the second part of my first story, Fishing for People. This is what happens from after Finnick gets back all the way up until just before Catching Fire. From Finnick's POV. Mostly about him and Annie.
1. Will the Games Ever End?

**A/N- **

**I wrote this story a _long _time ago, so I think it's only fair to warn you that it isn't my best work. It's not _bad, _though, and it does have a handful of favorites, so I'm not going to discourage anyone from reading or reviewing, but please take that into account if you see any glaring mistakes. I _kind of _edited Fishing for People, but there is just too much of this, really, so I apologize in advance for the typos and any other less than perfect writing, and hope that you still enjoy the story.  
**

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Finnick- Age 14 Annie- Age 12

I'm pacing back and forth down a dirt road lined with shacks. That's the only way that I can describe the houses that I'm seeing. They're all just one story, with probably only a couple rooms, and the wooden exterior is rotting. The smell fills the air, creeping under my skin.

All of my senses are on high alert, searching for a threat. Over the last two days, I've taken slow steps back to normal. I'm regaining confidence, starting to come to terms with the things that I had done in the arena. My sleep is still haunted with nightmares, and there are times when someone will come up behind me and I'll whip around, ready to jump at them. But I'm a lot better than I was before.

Now though, I can almost feel myself easing back into the arena. I can feel the desperation of the people who are forced into this situation, exactly like those in the arena, and I know better than anyone that desperate people do desperate things. I doubt anyone would be dumb enough to attack me after they've seen what I could do, but I can't help but be prepared for it. I'm a victor. They all know that money lines my pockets. My clothes probably cost enough to feed a family for weeks. I'm basically a walking goldmine to these people.

What am I doing here?

I have to remind myself that I promised Arowana I'd help her family. I just had no idea that they were in this bad of condition.

I try to walk towards the house with the seven painted on the door, but I have to turn around again. I've been at this for an hour. It's eerie actually, because no one has noticed me. That adds to my feeling of unease, the inkling that the people inside are planning something, when really they probably can't even see me through the driving rain. That doesn't console me though, because it also means that I can't see them. I bring my hand to the knife that I now keep at my side at all times. I wouldn't use it, but knowing that it's there helps me.

Five minutes pass. Ten. Finally I take a deep breath and walk towards the door. I won the Hunger Games for crying out loud. Why am I so scared of this?

I knock before I lose my courage. A few seconds pass before a woman in her late thirties answers the door. She's pale and thin, but has long blonde hair and the same fierce blue eyes that Arowana had. I know that this is her mother without asking. Mrs. Cresta is her name now. I have a million things that I want to say, but just looking into those eyes leaves the words stuck in my throat.

"May I help you?" she asks in a quiet, yet surprised voice.

"I'm Finnick Odair," I choke out. Well, duh. She would've watched the Games. She knows who I am.

"Do you want to come out of the rain?" she asks.

"Please," I tell her. This is awkward and formal and I hate it.

"This way," she says. I step into her house. My hair and clothes are drenched, and water drips onto the rough wooden floor.

"I'm sorry, I'm getting water all over," I tell her, starting to step back outside.

"It's fine," she says. We both stand in front of the door for a minute, not saying anything.

"I'd take it that you watched the Games," I say finally. She nods mutely. "So you're aware of the promise that I made your daughter?"

"We don't need your money Mr. Odair," she says. I notice a girl come up behind her. She has these huge green eyes, and curly dark brown hair cascades down her back. Even though she's small, something in her expression makes her look older than twelve, but I'm sure that it's Annie.

I think of the stories that Arowana told me about her, and I start to greet her, but stop myself when I see the look in those beautiful eyes. Fear. Pure fear. She's scared of me, just like Rafe. It doesn't hurt as badly as when I saw it in him, but it still hurts. Just another reminder that the Games will never end. Some people will remember what I did, and there's no doubt that this girl remembers very clearly.

"Annie, go back to your room," her mother says softly, like we were having some horrible argument that she doesn't want her to hear. Even if we were arguing, it's obvious by the way that Annie carries herself that she'd be able to handle whatever we were talking about.

"What are you two talking about?" she asks her mother, ignoring the orders that she'd been giving. I notice how sweet her voice is. Soft and gentle, but strong too.

"Nothing." She turns to me then, even though her eyes won't meet mine. That's fine with me. I avoid eye contact now anyway. I'm worried that people will be able to see the monster there.

"Why are you here?" she asks fearlessly, like she'd be able to make me leave if I was causing trouble. Her mother gives me a look, and I know she wants me to be quiet, but I know what it's like to be treated like a child when you really shouldn't be.

"I'm fulfilling the promise I made in the arena."

"And what was that? Specifically?" I address both her and her mother now.

"You need money, but if you don't like charity, I can get any of you jobs working on my father's boats. Then, if there's anything else you need, please just ask. I know that I can't replace Arowana, but at least allow me to help you." Mrs. Cresta smiles warmly now, deciding to trust me. I can tell that Annie still doesn't. She leaves the room without a word when I'm done.

"This is too good to be true," Mrs. Cresta says. "I heard your words in the arena, but I never imagined that you were serious."

"I wouldn't lie, not about something like that. I should really be doing more." She puts a soft hand on my shoulder and manages to force me to look into her eyes. I see nothing but gentleness and compassion.

"What you're doing now already means everything to us." I smile sadly, tears now threatening.

"Thank you. That means a lot to me." And it does, knowing that I can help people as well as hurt them.

"You have nothing to thank me for." Then she gives me a quick hug and I leave with this warm feeling still in my chest. The feeling of doing something truly good.

I sit at my kitchen table with a thick book. It's boring, just some old sailor's tales, but my mind is completely lost in the book. In the week that's passed since I've gotten back, I have gained a few new hobbies. One, my main one, is reading. I can lose myself for hours in a single book, and losing myself is one of my favorite things now. Losing myself means getting away from the girls that have started following me, the letters from the Capitol and of course the ever present Games.

I'm so caught up in my book that I don't hear the door open. I don't hear the footsteps coming behind me. I was trying so hard to shut out that real world that I actually did. Until I felt the tap on my shoulder.

In an instant the book is down, my hands circling around the girl's neck, the knife digging into her forehead. Then I see the wide green eyes staring up at me. I slowly lower my knife, and my hand flops down to my side. I feel stupid, but worst of all, I feel horrible. It gets worse when I see the cut, the blood trickling down her forehead. I feel like I'm going to throw up.

Annie Cresta is staring at me, unable to move a muscle, her face as pale as a sheet. Her eyes won't leave the knife that almost went through her skull.

"Annie," I whisper, my own fear clogging my voice. The fear of knowing that it was a very real possibility that I could've killed her right then.

"I- I'm fine," she says, and I know that she's trying to be strong, but her voice shakes.

"God, I was stupid. I'm sorry. Are you okay?" She backs away slowly.

"I'm fine. But I need to go." Great. The girl was already afraid of me, now she comes to my house and I almost kill her. She was right to be scared.

"Just let me look at your forehead," I tell her, my voice pathetically pleading. "You're bleeding a lot."

"No," she says. "I need to go. My head is fine." She starts to leave, but I grab her arm. She freezes, all of her muscles tensing as if she's ready for a fight.

"I wasn't trying to hurt you," I tell her as gently as I can, but now frustration is seeping into my voice. This is new to me, having to work to get people to trust me, and stabbing them with a knife isn't a good start.

"No, you just like stabbing things," she mutters under her breath.

"God Annie, I carry the knife because I'm scared out of my mind that someone is going to come and kill me. I got out of the Games a week ago, then someone sneaks up behind me and taps me on the shoulder. My brain still thought that you were a tribute."

"So you're crazy?" she asks me. The sharp accusation doesn't sound quite right in her soft voice.

"Probably a little, but I am getting better." She doesn't say anything for a long time, doesn't move at all. Blood continues to trickle down her forehead and onto her floor.

"I should help you with your head. Is that okay with you?" She just stares at me, her powerful gaze making me fidget uncomfortably. The only sound is the blood splattering in the puddle that's now getting big enough to make me nervous.

"Just give me a bandage and I'll be able to make it to the apothecary."

"That's over a mile away, and you don't have money to spend there anyway."

"What would you be able to do here anyway? Do you know how to fix this?"

"No," I have to admit. "But at least let me get Mags to drive you there." Now I'm thankful for the car that my parents had insisted on getting.

"I'm fine," she says. Then she turns around to leave, but sways unsteadily and has to grab onto the table for support. With more dignity than I expected, she straightens herself and glares at me. "Take me there, wait outside, and take me home."

"Yes, ma'am."

"And Finnick?" she asks, her eyes suddenly pleading. "Please help me to your car."

"No problem," I tell her. Then I gently take her arm and lead her out to where my car is parked. She leans her head back against the seat and closes her eyes as soon as she sits down.

"I'm going to get blood on the seats," she says. I laugh a little.

"Don't worry about it," I tell her. Then I jog over to Mags' house and knock on her door. I see her eye through the peep hole, making sure it isn't someone from the Capitol. She opens the door when she sees that it's just me.

"Please help me," I beg her. "I stabbed Annie Cresta with a knife." She grabs her coat without a single question and heads out to the car. I hand her the keys, then hop into the back seat beside Annie. Annie's eyes are open a little, but it's obvious that she's fighting to stay conscious.

"To the doctor?" Mags asks me.

"That's too expensive," Annie slurs.

"Doctor," I say. It's impossible not to notice how pale she's getting, the blood that's still flowing. Crap. I forget to stop the blood. I look around for something to use, but there's nothing. Mags wordlessly hands me her shawl. I wipe up a little of the extra blood, then press the shawl to her cut. Annie passes out a moment later.

I'm nothing but thankful when Mags pulls up in front of the doctor's office right afterwards. It's empty, as usual. There's only one doctor in the district, and she basically just sits around and waits for peacekeeper accidents. They're the only people other than victors that can afford it.

She whisks Annie away the second that we step into the building, so Mags and I are left alone in the waiting room.

"How'd that happen?" she asks me gently. I bury my face in my hands.

"She surprised me," I groan. I'm guilty enough that it hurts. All I can think about is how I promised to take care of that girl, how I promised to protect her, and now here I am, the person who hurts her.

"It isn't your fault," Mags says firmly. I look at her, and something about the way that she says it reminds me of what she said when I just get out of the Games. "Don't blame yourself for the Capitol's deeds."

It was something like that at least, and when I put two and two together, I'm pretty sure I know who's fault she's saying it is.

"I'm the one who stabbed her with the damn knife." Mags waves that off.

"You haven't recovered from the Games yet. If you had, that knife wouldn't have been in your hand in the first place."

It isn't your fault.

You haven't recovered from the Games yet.

I should blame the Games. I should blame the Capitol. But why? I survived. For most victors, the Games are a blessing. The ones that should be mad at the Capitol are the ones that don't make it. I'm fine. The Capitol has done nothing to me, not compared to the other tributes anyway. I should be able to handle this better than I am. I shouldn't be stabbing at everyone that comes up behind me. I'm weak.

"I don't want to talk about this," I mutter to Mags. She shakes her head, but doesn't push the matter any further.

Annie comes out of the room a half hour later. She had to get seven stitches and take some fancy Capitol medicine, but now she's fine. Tired, but fine.

"Thank God," I breathe, then run over and hug her. She squirms uncomfortably, so I let her go.

"What was that for?" she asks.

"I thought it was going to be so much worse. Do you have any idea how horrible I felt?" Her head tilts to the side and she looks at me like she's trying to figure something out.

"You cared that you hurt me?"

"Yes, I hurt someone who shouldn't have been hurt, and I broke my promise to your sister."

"Maybe I underestimated you," she admits. Then she gives me this small smile that's so sweet it makes it impossible not to smile back.

"Thank you," I tell her.

"For what?"

"Making me smile." She doesn't seem that impressed.

"You smile all the time."

"None of them are real. That's the first one that hasn't been forced since I've gotten back here."

"Then I guess you're welcome." Then she smiles again, bigger this time, and I know that her smiles are special.

"You aren't going to stab me this time, are you?" Annie says the words from right behind me, which is brave in my opinion. Or maybe she just realized that I'd already heard her come in. She had slammed the door when she came into the house, announcing her entrance.

"Nope, that costs me way too much money," I joke. She walks around my chair and plops down onto the couch across from me.

"I knew that's why you were so upset yesterday," she says.

"Still skeptical that I have the capacity to care for human life?" I ask her.

"Do you blame me?" she asks.

"Not one bit. But it is annoying." Her face scrunches up in distaste.

"I don't like being called annoying. It makes me sound pathetic." I don't know her really well yet, but that already makes sense to me. She's so subtle in everything, from her soft voice, to her quiet defiance of me yesterday when she wasn't going to let me help her. Well, except for eyes. They always seem to be screaming out what doesn't show anywhere else.

"You aren't annoying, it's just annoying that you don't seem to trust me."

"I've learned not to trust people before they've earned it," she says.

"I will earn it," I swear. I don't know if it's because of Arowana, or just because I see a challenge, but I do want this girl to trust me.

"If you say so," she says, then seems to suddenly remember something. "I'm sorry, I have to go home, so I should just say what I came here to say."

"Which is?"

"Thank you."

"You have no reason to thank me," I tell her.

"Yes. I do." Her words radiate sincerity, and the smile that accompanies them make me smile again. For the second time in two days, after not really smiling for weeks.

"You're welcome I guess. And I am sorry for stabbing you."

"I accept your apology," she says, then she gets up. "Now I do have to go. My mother is probably worrying. I got off of school an hour ago."

"Why don't you just hang out here tonight? I'll have someone contact your mother so she doesn't worry. My family usually comes over for supper, and I could take you down to the ocean afterwards." She bites her lip, and I can tell that she wants to go but doesn't think she should.

"I guess," she finally says.

"Thank you," I say, and I mean it. Annie Cresta is unlike any person that I have ever met, and I'm determined to get to really know her.


	2. Lows and Highs

Author's note: Okay, please remember to read and review. Thank you for your amazing reviews, reading them makes my day. Don't forget to tell me all my mistakes. I wrote most of this chapter at like 3 a.m., so there are probably quite a few. Thank you.

2 weeks later.

Rain falls in heavy sheets, soaking everything in sight. It's worse than I've ever seen it, even during the tornado in the arena. I can't help but thinking of then, the only time that I was really desperate during the Games. I remember the tears flowing down my cheeks, masked by the heavy rain. For all I know I could be crying now. It feels like it, with the water streaming down my face like tears.

I'm freezing cold and drenched with rain. My thin t-shirt clings to my chest, and my shorts are heavy with water. The feeling has completely left my fingers and bare feet. I should go home or I'm going to get frostbite. But I can't move. The pain feels good. So good. I close my eyes and dive off the dock, into the angry ocean.

For a moment I just let myself go under, the waves pushing and shoving me in every direction. I stay under until my lungs are on the verge of bursting. Then I force myself to the surface and take a couple breaths, needing all of my strength to stay above the water.

_What am I doing here? _

I know that I'm trying to find something. Myself? That doesn't seem right. I thought I've been close to finding that over the last couple of weeks. Or maybe not, because I feel completely lost right now.

The waves pull me under again, and again I let them. My arms and legs are losing feeling and I know that I won't be able to really swim for much longer. When I get up this time, I weakly pull myself onto the wooden dock. I lie there like a dead fish, not moving, just listening to the sound of the rain.

That's when I remember that the Crestas are coming over for supper tonight. I need to get up, to make something or get someone else to. My legs slowly register the command, and I do get on my feet. Even though all of my limbs are numb, I actually manage to make my way home.

Pain shoots through me when I step into the warm house and feeling starts returning to my limbs. I flex my hands and try to make the sharp needles stop pricking my skin. I realize that as the numbness wears of my limbs, my thoughts start to become more focused as well. I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. Both. Good because the Crestas are coming and I have something to look forward to. Bad because of nearly everything else.

My eyes go to the clock hanging on my wall. I have an hour before they come. An hour. I stumble to my bathroom and turn on the water, as hot as possible. Then I stumble over the edge of the tub and just lay there as burning water sprays over me, clothes and all.

Breathing hurts and depression threatens to pull me under, but I force myself to list the good things in my life.

I have a beautiful sister named Daisy. I survived the Hunger Games. There's a girl named Annie Cresta that comes to my house after school and reads and does little things that make me smile. I'll see her again in less than an hour. I'll see her family too. Her strong father. Her gentle mother. I helped them, they have money now. I help lots of people now. Everyone likes me. There's nothing wrong with my life. I am perfect.

I bang my head against the bone white floor of the porcelain tub, trying to beat the words into my head. I am perfect. Everyone thinks that. Except the people that matter. They know the truth.

Rafe. I haven't seen Rafe since I've gotten back. He wouldn't talk to me anyway. He knows I'm not perfect.

Then there's Annie. The girl I'm growing closer and closer to. The girl that says almost nothing to me, that won't trust me with her secrets because she knows I will use them against her. Two weeks ago, I swore I was going to get to know her. I do, in a way. I know that she hardly ever smiles, but that it's almost magical when she does. I know that she's strong enough to not bat an eye after I stab her with a knife, but that she'll tear up at the books she reads. And I know that she has a wild drive when it comes to helping others, even though the families she begs me to feed are better off than she used to be.

Annie who watches me with cautious eyes when she comes up behind me, who's eyes flash warily to the knife that I still carry. Annie who offhandedly asked me what was going through my head when I whispered to the girl from District 1. I've heard the quote is now famous in the Capitol, imprinted on bracelets, added onto pictures of me that probably hang in the houses of most single females in the Capitol. _The beautiful ones are always the most fun to kill. _

Yes. Annie knows my imperfections very well.

But better than her, or Rafe, I know how imperfect I really am, and maybe that's worse than anything. How can I expect the two people that I care about most to accept me if I can't accept myself?

The hot water of the shower starts to cool, so I get on my feet and step out of the shower. I take my wet clothes off so I can actually dry off, then grab my warmest pair of pants and put on a thick sweater.

Twenty minutes until they come. Twenty. I busy myself in the kitchen, throwing pre-made crab cakes in the oven, digging out a tin of fudge that Mags brought over, rummaging for something to drink in the small refrigerator.

Everything is almost ready when the door rings. There's no remaining sign of my mental breakdown. I sigh, relieved. Now Annie is here. I hope she'll make me smile tonight. I need to smile.

"Thank you so much for having us," Mr. Cresta says when I open the door. I laugh and roll my eyes, something that I would've done before the Games.

"It's no problem. I get lonely around here anyway. Now come in, it's pouring out there." I step aside and let them in. Mr. and Mrs. Cresta both keep up a continuous string of thanks, but Annie is quiet as usually, her green eyes following my every move.

"How are your folks doing?" Mrs. Cresta asks me as I lead them into the kitchen. I notice for the first time how good everything does smell. I haven't eaten all day.

"I'm not sure. My dad is obsessed with work, and my mom has gotten wrapped up with managing my winnings." I try hard to keep a straight face when I say managing my winnings. Yeah, like she'd do that. She's having fun spending my money.

"Well, that's too bad. It must be something, living here by yourself when you're so young, especially since your parents aren't around much."

"It gets lonely, but I like the quiet. Annie keeps me company though, and Mags is over a lot."

"Oh yes, I forgot about that. It must be help. Now, whatever you're making smells delicious. When will it be ready?"

I keep up a steady, normal conversation with Annie's parents the entire meal, smiling and polite, the personification of what a fourteen year old boy should be. It's hard, and some of the things I say are a little forced, but I manage to last the entire meal. I really don't want to bother trying when these people already view me as their savior, but I do it for Arowana. It's good to practice for the victory tour in a couple months anyway.

"I'm sorry we have to leave so quickly, but I promised to stop by a friend's house tonight," Mr. Cresta says when he's done.

"It's no problem," I tell him, indifferent. I like the Crestas, but I do want some alone time.

"Dad," Annie says to get Mr. Cresta's attention. That's the first time she's spoken out all night.

"What Annie?"

"Is it okay if I stay? I don't want to sit at the Grants' house for two hours with nothing to do." Both of her parents look at her in surprise, but I can't be anything but grateful. I don't have to bother pretending around Annie because she sees right through me anyway. It's nice to be able to act how I feel around someone, even if I may not be their favorite person.

"Is that okay with you?" Mr. Cresta asks me. I shrug.

"Sure, that's fine."

Mr. and Mrs. Cresta are gone just five minutes later. Annie heads immediately to the library, and because I know that she won't be coming out anytime soon, I just follow her. While she works on finding a book, I plop down into a chair.

My entire body is exhausted, probably from jumping into the waves today, and I can't keep my eyes open. I'm asleep within seconds.

I don't know how much later it is when I wake up, but Annie is still sitting across from me, a book in her lap. But instead of reading, she's staring at me. The weird thing is that when I catch her, she doesn't even look embarrassed.

"Why did you fall asleep?" she asks. I yawn and stretch out my stiff muscles.

"I had a rough morning. Why? How long have I been out?" Must not have been very. I didn't even have nightmares. Or maybe that's just because I was so tired.

"A couple of hours. I just thought it was strange that you fell asleep so quickly at seven o'clock."

"What? Do you think I got up early to go people hunting or something?"

"It wouldn't be the first time." I groan. She starts talking to me, and this is what she has to bring up.

"I thought you were over calling me a murderer to my face."

"Just saying," she says. "But why are you tired?" I run a hand through my hair, but it just falls right back into my eyes. I've threatened to get it buzzed off more than once since I've gotten back, but Sylvia, my stylist, insists that I keep it longer.

"I went for a swim this morning," I say simply.

"During the storm? You could've died," she says. Oddly enough, her voice doesn't get one bit louder. There's some concern, which surprises me, but it's almost like she's not surprised.

"I'm stronger than that." She shakes her head.

"Don't do anything stupid, please. I'm actually starting to tolerate you."

"Tolerate?" I ask. "You haven't spoken to me for two weeks." She seems unconcerned.

"Why speak when you don't have anything to say?" That's just so absurd that I know she's telling the truth. I laugh then, because for some reason I'm happy that this girl is starting not to hate me. I tell myself that it's because of my promise to her sister, but I don't believe that for a second. It's because the girl with the beautiful green eyes is starting to really grow on me, and _I _want her approval. Not for any promises, but just because I don't think I could stand it if she hated me.

"I guess that's true," I tell her, because I don't know what else to say.

"I try not to say anything that isn't," she says. Then the doorbell rings and her parents are here to take her home.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she says on her way out.

"That's a Saturday," I remind her.

"We can do something different then. Go to the ocean again? That was fun that one time we went." I remember the night, two weeks ago, when we went out to the ocean. Annie swam everywhere, looking like some kind of mermaid, while I sat on the beach. She was smiling and laughing then, she was having so much fun. That was the only time since we've met that she seemed like she could just be twelve. It was nice to see her finally act like a child, like there's a chance that her past wasn't as bad as Arowana suggested. I decide that it would be nice to go to the ocean tomorrow.

"That sounds great," I tell her. Then she runs out the door to meet her parents.

At ten o'clock the next day, we're walking to the beach together. She's wearing a light green swimsuit that makes her eyes seem even brighter, and her long hair is braided down her back. I hate to admit it, but if she was a couple years older, she'd be cute. As soon as I think that, I make my eyes focus on the gray stones that line the streets. Thinking about her that way should be totally forbidden. It's almost like checking out my little sister.

"I'm starting to regret this," she says after a while. I let myself glance up from the ground.

"Why?"

"Doesn't it bother you?"

"What?" I feel slow.

"The people staring." That's when I look up and notice a small group of girls whispering and pointing at us. What the hell?

"I hadn't even noticed," I mumble. Maybe this is to be expected. Maybe I acted like too much of a flirt in my interviews. Hell, I acted like a flirt before my Games. Now, I'm starting to regret it.

"I guess you're used to it," Annie whispers.

"If I was used to it, I wouldn't be getting mad at them." She laughs a little, but I can tell the girls are making her nervous. I can actually feel jealousy radiating off of their group.

"Get a life," I shout to the girls, curving my body around Annie so that they can't really see her.

"Is that your girlfriend?" someone shouts. Annie tenses up beside me.

"Go **** yourself," I yell back.

"Finnick," Annie hisses. I run my hand through my hair. Right, don't talk like my father around a twelve year old girl. Or at all for that matter. Can I do anything right?

"Sorry," I mumble to her. At least the girls decided to break off their little stalking trip. For now.

The day at the beach is nice after that. Annie relaxes when we get to the secluded little cove where I used to go when I was younger. There's no one here to bother us, so she lets herself really have fun. I sit on the soft white sand for a while and just watch her do graceful flips and twists in the clear blue water. I'm still a little tired from my little swim yesterday, and watching her is so fun that I plan on staying on shore. Then she starts urging me to get in, her excited eyes making it impossible to refuse. I throw my shirt off and smoothly dive into the still water.

Even after living in Four all my life, it's still unbelievable how much the water can change in just a few hours. Now, the surface is as smooth as glass, except for the ripples where Annie or I disturb it. Every movement is easy and effortless, the water holding most of my weight. I let myself cut easily through the water, staying under for as long as I can, smiling and forgetting and still watching Annie.

"I'll race you to that buoy," Annie says one of the few times she pokes her head above the water.

"From where?" I ask her.

"Here," she says, then she's off. She has a small head start, but I'm older and stronger than her, so I figure I'll make it up easily. What I don't count on is her swimming ability. She flies through the water, barely rippling the surface. I'm a good, even great swimmer, but I feel slow and clunky next to her.

She beats me. By a foot, not even, but she wins.

"You know," she pants. "Claudius Templesmith said you were an amazing physical specimen during the Games this year." She says it in her normal soft, sweet voice that really can't be teasing, but I still know what's coming next. "I guess he was talking about the wrong person."

"It's not my fault you're some kind of freaky fish person," I say. She splashes water in my face.

"At least I'm not a whale," she tosses back, and I laugh just because it feels so good to bicker like a little kid.

"Oh, I'm going to get you for that one." I send a huge wave of water flying her way, and an all out war starts.

When we get back to shore, I'm snorting and laughing hard enough to make my gut hurt. Annie smiles from ear to ear, and even though I still haven't gotten her to laugh, she's the happiest I've ever seen her.

"I think I beat you," Annie says, then sits down on the beach. I sit beside her.

"That's because you're a damn fish person," I tell her, and even though it isn't that funny, I crack up laughing. I wonder if this is what it's like to feel high.

"I think you're losing it," she says. I roll my eyes.

"Annie, you should know better than anyone else that I lost it a long time ago."

"Yeah, but it's never been this obvious before," she says, and to prove her point, I start laughing again. It feels good, and I have no reason to stop. For the first time since I've come home, I feel totally and completely happy.


	3. Ghost of the Past

A/N- Sorry this took so long, I've been freakishly busy lately, but I managed to get this done somewhere between Trig homework and volleyball practice. Please R&R, and as always I appreciate the reviews. Any help would be appreciated. Thank you.

Finnick 15 Annie 13

The one thing that I've always taken pride in is my ability to keep promises. If I tell you I'm going to do something, I will do it, no matter what. I remember telling my parents that I was coming back from the arena. I did. I told Arowana that I was going to take care of her family. I am. So many promises, and all of them kept. Except one. I look down at the sapphire trident that's hanging around my neck. I've gotten so used to wearing it that I'd actually almost forgotten about it.

Until the Victory Tour that is. The last stop before you return to your district is the Capitol. They throw this huge party, with hundreds of people. I can't remember much because I was glued to Mags the entire time, but I did notice all of the tridents. None exactly like mine, but everyone there must have had some kind of trident necklace, or bracelet, or something like that. That made me remember my necklace, and in turn, my promise.

Now, I can't get the scene out of my head. My final goodbye to my best friend. He'd given me the necklace to wear as a district token, and I'd promised him that I'd bring it back. I guess I did, in a way. It's back to the district, which is what I intended. But in truth, I also know that I meant I'd give it back to him. I haven't done that yet.

Now that the necklace is back in my mind, it reminds me about more than just broken promises and the Hunger Games. It reminds me of the best friend that I've lost. I won't be able to really forget about him until I get rid of the necklace.

That's the reason why I'm walking down the stone-paved street towards Rafe's house right now. Or at least the big reason. Or maybe it isn't even a reason at all. Maybe I'm just telling myself that to justify coming here. It doesn't really matter why. It just matters that I'm doing it.

At least I want to do it, but when I see his weather beaten house looking down at me, I can't help but stop in my tracks. It's even worse than when I was trying to convince myself to knock on the Cresta's door that night, because now I know exactly what my reception is going to be. I have no hope that everyone will be grateful that I've come, that I'll be readily welcomed. No, I know that this is going to be horrible, that they may not even let me in.

I pace back and forth, eyeing the house like I'm afraid it's going to eat me. That's how nervous I am. My nerves are strung up so tight that when I hear footsteps behind me, my hand flies to my knife, and I'm impossibly close from taking it out and ruining everything. But at the last second, I realize that it's Rafe. My hand falls limply to my side.

He's standing ten feet away from me, his eyes huge.

"Finnick. What are you doing here?" he asks. His voice is thick with fear.

"I'm looking for a place to enter when I come to murder you tonight," I say dryly. His eyes get hard.

"I never implied anything," he says. I take a giant step towards him. He staggers backwards so quickly that he falls over.

"You just implied a hell of a lot right there." I'm trying not to scream, but the anger is evident in my voice. I don't want to be mad, I didn't come here to yell at him, but the only other option is acting hurt, and I definitely don't want to do that.

"I thought- I thought-." When he realizes he can't defend himself, he switches tactics. "What do you care anyway? It's not like you've made any attempts to work this out the last seven months." I stalk over to him and look down at him.

"Work this out? You expect me to come over to your house and try to work this damn thing out? God Rafe, are you stupid? We were best friends and you turned your back on me. There's no going back."

"Best friends? Were we ever really even friends? You treated me more like a body guard than anything. You barely hung out with me at school. It was always the other rich guys, the beautiful girls. I embarrassed you Finnick. You just talked with me when it was convenient. Now I'm doing the same thing." I swear that I'm mad enough that I start seeing red.

"You're making it sound like I'm cheating on you or something. I said I was your best friend, not your damn girlfriend. Are you mad at me because other people actually like me? Are you jealous because I have everything, and you're living in a falling down house with a whore for a mother and no father?" I know I've gone to far. I've crossed the line that no one with any conscience should cross. It's a million times worse because he's still on the ground, trying not to cry, and I'm looking down at him like I'm going to step on him.

"I can't believe that I actually thought that you give a shit about me," Rafe says quietly, his voice breaking at the end. It's pathetic, but now I'm the one that's crying. I try to wipe the tears away because I feel like such a girl, but they won't stop.

"Damn it. I have to go," I mutter under my breath, tilting my face away from him, hoping that he can't see the tears.

"Thanks for coming," Rafe says bitterly. I turn around and start stomping away, but then I remember what I walked over there for anyway. I walk back to where Rafe is getting up, dusting off his knees. He looks up warily when he sees me.

"What?" he snaps. He isn't in any danger of crying anymore. Now, he's just mad. I pull the necklace over my head.

"I promised I'd bring this back," I mumble, then drop it into his hand. I start to leave again, but he puts a hand on my arm.

"Keep it. It probably means more to you than it does to me." I laugh darkly.

"Yeah. Memories of a friendship that meant nothing to you and time in an arena that still gives me nightmares. It means so much to me." Again, I try to pull away. He tightens his grip on my arm.

"Wait. Meant nothing to me? What are you talking about." I grit my teeth in frustration.

"You didn't even think that we were friends. What did you say exactly? Nothing but a body guard?"

"Wasn't I?" I let out a shaky breath.

"Yeah, you were. But you were other things too. You were like a brother to me." He shakes his head.

"You just started thinking like that after you got back. You had never said anything close to that before."

"There are some things you shouldn't need to say. You should've known that. You acted like it."

"That's because I thought so too. Then you went into the arena, I saw you playing that girl from here, I saw you killing like it was nothing, and I realized that you can't care about anyone." I punch him in the face hard enough that he staggers back. Blood starts trickling from his nose. I want to sock him again, but I have things I want him to know before I knock him out.

"I went crazy you dumbass. I had a girl die in my arms. I watched another get eaten. I was trapped in a small cave the middle of a snowstorm for three days, and I got so delusional that I started talking to you and my mother. I wasn't in my right mind when I killed most of those people."

I stop to take a breath. He opens his mouth to say something, but I'm not finished.

"And don't say a single thing about me playing Arowana. You know nothing about that. You have no idea how much I really liked her."

"Did you even keep the promise you made her?" he asks me, and I can tell by his voice that he doesn't think I did.

"Yes, I did. Her parents got a new house last month, they have enough to eat now, and her step-sister comes over to my house every day."

"How much money is Snow giving you for that?"

"You really think I'm a monster, don't you?" He doesn't answer me. "I'm not. I've done horrible things, but I am not a monster. I would give my life for that girl Rafe. I would die for her." And as I say it, I realize for the first time that it's true. I wouldn't have died for Arowana, I couldn't have made myself then, but now I'm realizing how important the people you care about truly are. If I was put in the arena now, and Annie was my partner, I would do everything in my power to keep her alive.

"Finnick, I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"No, you don't know anything about me." He tries to get me to make eye contact, but I won't let him.

"I know that you never let yourself appear weak, even if you're completely terrified. I know that you can make anyone laugh when they're about to cry, that you don't like anything more than jumping off the dock out by your old house, and that even though millions of girls have followed you since you were ten, that you haven't even had a real girlfriend yet because you know that none of them are real."

My knees start shaking in what might be relief, and even though I want to be mad at him, I can't quite manage it. I hate him so much for everything that he's assumed, for everything that he thought, but I can't be too mad because I know what he saw. I've seen it. I know exactly how horrible I looked.

"So are we good?" I ask him. He nods.

"Yeah, we are."

Rafe has to work after that, and I know that Annie is probably going to be at my house soon anyway, so I hustle home, but I already have plans to meet Rafe at the dock tomorrow to try and work things out. Even as I walk, my brain tries to sort out everything that just happened, to figure out if I even want to be his friend after all that, but I know that I'll at least have to give it a chance. We'd been friends for eight years. It'd be stupid to let it go because of a couple fights.

Annie is waiting in my library when I walk into the house. A huge volume sits on her lap, and she's so engrossed in it that she doesn't even look at me. I look at her for a second and can't help but wonder when she started getting so beautiful. I have to mentally slap myself for thinking that, but the thoughts won't go away. Maybe it's just that the ugliness with Rafe would make anything seem more beautiful, but I know that it's more than that. I remember the realization that I would die for this girl. Maybe it's that.

"Sorry, I was taking care of some stuff," I tell Annie, and swing myself over the back of the couch into the spot beside her. She doesn't jump at all. Maybe she was paying more attention than I thought.

"That's fine. I don't mind reading."

"I figured that out by now," I joke, leaning over to see what book she's reading. It's about mermaids. It's somewhat ironic that she's reading about them, since sometimes I'd swear she probably belongs to the species.

"Hey, you're blocking my light," she says.

"Come on, you should put that thing away anyway. I want to go do something." Her eyes get huge and she gets an expression of over exaggerated shock on her face.

"Finnick Odair wants to do something? Wow. I don't think you've let me out of this house since the Victory Tour." I playfully punch her arm.

"You shouldn't joke about that. For all you know, I'm planning on keeping you locked in the basement so you can't get away from me." She laughs. My lips pull up into a smile when I hear the beautiful sound. That's one good thing about these past few months. I've gotten Annie to laugh.

"You don't have to do that. I'm not planning on leaving you anytime soon." My joking mood vanishes with those words.

"You can't know that. Not with the Games, not with laws that'll have you killed if you step out of line. There are so many things that can take you away from me. Please don't make promises you can't keep." She puts a gentle hand on my shoulder.

"Finnick, if I die, I will come back and haunt you. I swear to God that I'm not leaving you." I look into her fierce green eyes then, and relief washes over me when I realize that she's serious. I mean as much to her as she does to me, and she's never going to leave me, no matter what.

"Thank you," I whisper. Because after watching so many people die, after having my parents refuse to move in with me, and after Rafe turning his back on me for seven months, knowing that someone refuses to leave is the best kind of hope that you can get.


	4. Falling Into the Ocean

A/N- I appreciate the reviews, and as always, I'm open to any criticism that you have for me. Thank you for continuing to read my writing.

Finnick 15 Annie 13

So many glowing stars decorate the night sky that it reminds me of the swirls of glitter that brightened Sylvia's face during my Games. The moon is just a shining white glob in the middle, a sharp contrast to the black background. It's one of the most beautiful nights that I've seen, made so much better by the girl laying in the sand next to me.

We aren't saying anything, but that's fine. We couldn't if we tried. Tomorrow is the day of the reaping, and even though Annie only has two slips of paper in those huge glass balls, I'm still horrified. I may be safe now, but Annie isn't.

I know that I should be thinking about Rafe, who has sixty something slips now that he's seventeen and his mother had another child, adding to their already huge family. But I can't worry too much about him, even though we are talking again. We can never go back to the friendship we had before, especially not when I can't keep my mind off of Annie for a second.

Just thinking about her makes me smile, and I roll over to look at her. How could I have let one single person get so much power over me? Then she turns her head and looks into my eyes, and I know exactly how. Because she grew up under horrible circumstances, but still tries to see the good in everything. Because her smile makes even peacekeepers smile back. And because she's just so perfectly Annie.

"Are you scared?" I ask her softly.

"I shouldn't be," she answers. I take her hand.

"Everyone with their name in those two glass balls is scared." She shakes her head.

"What about you? You didn't even blink when they said your name. You showed absolutely no fear through the entire Games." I close my eyes and pull her to my side. I love the way that she fits there so perfectly, like a missing puzzle piece. I love the way I feel like I can protect her from anything. I never want to let go of her.

"I was scared, but not like I should've been. I'd been trained for the Games so much that I got cocky. As soon as my name was called, I was already figuring out how I'd get home. I didn't think much about everyone who wanted me dead. I'm scared now though, when I really shouldn't be."

"What are you scared of?" she asks gently. My eyes open and meet hers. She's so close to me that our foreheads are almost touching. I should kiss her. I want to kiss her. My eyes snap shut again, because I know that I can't think like that. It isn't right. I force my thoughts onto a slightly safer path.

"I'm scared that I didn't deserve to win after what I did. I'm scared that there are still people out to get me. I'm scared that I'll wind up like Mags, getting to know dozens of tributes, then having to watch them die. And I'm terrified that one of those tributes is going to be you."

"I don't see what you shouldn't be afraid of those things," she says. "Except for losing me. I don't want you to worry about that." I grip her hand tighter, and it has to hurt her, but she doesn't say anything.

"Annie, that's the only one that I should really be worrying about."

"What are the chances that I'll be picked, Finnick? There are thousands of names. The odds are in our favor."

She isn't as confident the next day. I make a few pathetic attempts to start a conversation when I walk her to her place, but she just gives me dull, one word answers. When a peacekeeper shouts at her to get with the thirteen year old girls, she just gives me a sad look before she walks away.

I want nothing more than to stay with Annie, but I'm required to be up on the stage. Then they put the victors in order by the year they won. I wind up next to Borglum, who won ten years ago. He's better than most of them, since he's actually sober most of the time and actually pretty normal, even though I avoid him because of his violent outbursts. I tried hanging out with him a month or so after I got back, mainly because he was Arowana's mentor, but he made me nervous. He'd see something, then start going off about it, talking about how much he'd like to kill certain people.

Sure enough, as soon as I sit beside him, he starts whispering in my ear about Alva, the District 4 escort. He goes on about how she rigs the balls so that people related to the victors get picked, to make things more interesting. I guess I've never paid attention, and I start considering this. Then he gets really close to me and barely breathes that everyone in the Capitol deserves to die.

"Borglum," I hiss. Doesn't he know how much trouble he could get into for that? He just chuckles when I call him out though.

"Give it a couple years and you'll be thinking the same way," he says. Then he turns around and points at a camera man trying to get our attention. We both smile broadly, even though I know that neither of us look truly happy. Borglum's blue eyes are burning with hate, and I'm sure mine probably look dead. When the cameraman looks away, I turn back to him.

"What do you mean?" He opens his mouth to answer, but Alva starts talking and his jaw clamps shut. I immediately forget about my conversation with him, now looking at the big glass ball with the slips for the female tribute. I will it not to be Annie. I actually pray. Then Alva walks over there and I know that nothing I do can protect Annie, and I bury my face in my hands. She opens her mouth to say the name, and I imagine my world falling apart.

"Eliza Snow." Every muscle in my body relaxes. I have another year before I have to worry again. Borglum sees my relief and actually pats me on the shoulder. I scan the crowd for Annie, and when her eyes meet mine, it takes everything I have not to run out there and hug her. She smiles at me timidly, careful not to be too happy because even though she's safe, there are two other kids getting shipped of to their death today.

I get myself a little bit wound up when Alva steps up to choose the name for the boy, but it isn't Rafe. Another person that I don't know. I've gotten lucky, and I can feel it. I really don't feel like I've won much though, because no matter who it is, nobody deserves to go to the Hunger Games, and nobody's family deserves to watch their children fight to the death. Yet, today is just another reminder that it happens to twenty four different families every year.

This year it's even worse for our district because the tributes are both young. The girl is fifteen, older than me I guess, but small. The boy is just twelve, and you can hear the crowd hoping someone will take his place, that someone will give our district a chance, but there's nothing. I can't stand to look at either of them as they take their places on the stage, because I know that they'll be dead in just a couple weeks. At that moment, the injustice of it strikes me. Not hard, but enough that I realize just how wrong it is to make children fight because people almost a hundred years ago rebelled.

"This isn't right," I whisper in Borglum's ear, so quietly that I don't even know if he heard me. He did though, and he shakes his head slightly, his eyes focused on the two young tributes.

"This is only the beginning," he says back. Something about the way that he says it makes me shiver, even though I don't know how it can get worse than the Hunger Games.

Borglum and Mags are the mentors again, mainly because they're the only willing victors. I'm not really happy about that because I wanted to take them somewhere safe and talk about what they've been saying, mainly Borglum. Some part of me is scared to figure out what he meant by this only being the beginning, but the other part is dying to know.

I'm not too upset though, because Annie runs over to me as soon as the cameras leave the old victors to find the new tributes. I can't help throwing my arms around her as soon as she gets close to me. She leans her head against my chest and in that second I swear that nothing could be more perfect than feeling her here and safe, and knowing that she will be for the next year.

"They're going to die," Annie whispers to me.

"But you aren't." I'm still holding on to her, and I know that it's lasting too long for a friendly hug. Is it really that impossible to wrap my mind around how wrong it would be if I did like her as more than a friend? It would be a disaster. I have to get that through my thick skull. I let go of her and take a step back. It's almost physically painful. "It's wrong to think that, isn't it? Two kids are dying, and all I can think of is that you're safe."

"It is wrong," she admits, and there's no way either of us can justify it.

"Come on, let's go find your parents. We'll celebrate at my house tonight." That's wrong too, changing the subject to get her mind off of my callousness.

"That would be nice," she says. Then she takes my hand and drags me around, trying to find them, and I have to think that it would be nicer if it was just the two of us.

Just for the record, I'm dead wrong about our tributes. The boy, even though he's just twelve, makes it to the last fifteen at least. The girl makes it home. I hadn't known this when she came up on stage, but she'd trained for as long as I have, and during the Games it became obvious that she was deadly smart. She set traps for the tributes, cut off their food supplies, and actually baited tributes into encounters with one another. Like Mags, her mentor, she didn't kill a tribute directly. She just made them kill each other. And now she's back in District 4. It actually makes me feel weak. She didn't go crazy, and her Games were drug out of two and a half weeks. I make myself stop thinking of that. My Games are in the past. Nothing I can change now.

A week after the Games are done, I'm sitting in my library, just staring at the walls of books. I know that I should find something to read, just to make my brain work, but I haven't been able to make it through a whole book since I've gotten over my post traumatic stress disorder. As soon as I lost the need to lose myself in the books, any appeal they had to me disappeared. It's even worse because my hobby that I picked after the Games was reading. Now I can't even pick up a stupid book.

I'm starting to get really frustrated when the doorbell rings. I'm extremely surprised to see Borglum standing outside.

"What's up?" I ask him.

"Do you want to go on a hike?" Something about the way he says it makes it seem like he's asking me for more than that. I can feel that this is important, and even though I know that Annie will be getting off of school very soon, I also know that staying home is not an option. Borglum has something that he needs to tell me, and I have to find out.

"Sure, sounds like fun."

"Oh, it will be."

Borglum says absolutely nothing the entire way up the mountain. This kind of silence drives me nuts, and I want to say something, but I can tell that he's thinking about something really hard, so I keep my mouth shut. I try singing to myself just to make the time go by faster, but I have to stop immediately because I got that habit during the Games. I can feel a rush of memories trying to break down the invisible wall in my head, and I quickly change to the safest subject possible. Annie.

Or maybe it isn't safe. My mind goes to the night before the reaping, when I wanted to kiss her. Or the day of the reaping, when I held her so tightly, the way that she leaned her head on my chest, and how warm she was, and how everything was so perfect. Then I think about the way she took my hand and pulled me away, and how badly I wished that we were going somewhere where it was just us.

I know how stupid all of it is, how wrong it would be for me to like her in that way. I don't want to twist Arowana's promise like that, not to mention that Annie would be thrown into the media fire, and that's just if she isn't creeped out. She probably would be. I've been acting almost like her brother the last year. I can't just go up and kiss her. Maybe I'm just getting desperate or something. That has to be it. All I need to do is find a girlfriend, and I'll be fine. One of those tiny blonde girls that would look so perfect next to me.

"We're here," Borglum says, thankfully breaking off my train of thought. I can immediately see that I was right about the reason for the hike. We're now looking into the mouth of a dark cave, and I'm guessing that we probably went six miles or so. Six miles for a hole in the rock. There's no other reason to be here than to talk.

Borglum leads me into the cave, then reaches into his pack and pulls out a flashlight. We find a couple of rocks to sit on, then he gets right to business.

"Before I say anything, I need you to swear to me that you will not repeat any of this to anyone outside of a few select people. Do I have your word?"

"Yes," I answer. I can feel the importance of this. No one can know.

"Then tell me your opinions on the Hunger Games." I know that out here, no one can be listening. Nothing I say can hurt me, not when I know that Borglum feels the same way. I don't just let myself speak freely for the first time. I let myself think freely.

"They're cruel, barbaric. No decent human being would let something like that continue, but the Capitol does because they're a bunch of fluffed up monsters who care about nothing but themselves." The words flow freely from my mouth, even though I haven't even let myself imagine saying them before. I don't even think that I felt them. But now, out here where nobody can hear me, and fresh from watching another twenty three tributes die, I know that it's true. I can feel it, even though everything I just said goes against how I was raised.

"Finnick, the people everywhere in Panem, even the Capitol, eat up every word that comes out of your mouth. Nothing has happened yet, and I don't think anything will happen for a while, but if the districts rebel, will you wholeheartedly support the districts?"

My jaw drops and I can't do anything but stare at him while I try to process what he's saying. That the districts may rebel, that he wants me on the side that will surely lose. I think of Annie. Everyone close to me will suffer if the Capitol finds out that I'm against them.

"Maybe when the war actually starts, I'll side with the districts, but now I'm not going to take any sides." Borglum shakes his head like he can't believe me.

"We need you Finnick. You'd be able to do so much. Wouldn't taking down the Capitol be worth risking your life?"

"My life? Sure. But it isn't just my life that I'm worried about. Nothing that you can tell me will make me make a single move against the Capitol. I can't risk it." His eyes soften just slightly, and he puts a hand on my shoulder.

"I understand, but if you change your mind, just tell Mags or me."

"I will."

I'm nervous when my doorbell rings the next day. Suddenly I'm worried that Annie will be mad at me for ditching her. My house is a mile away from her school, and she would've walked all the way here to be left to a note.

Of course, it's Annie, and she greets me with a sweet smile that makes my heart stutter.

"How was your hike?" she asks me, and there isn't a trace of bitterness in her voice.

"I should've just stayed here," I answer truthfully. "You're so much better than Borglum." She smiles a little.

"Thanks, I think. But you had fun, right?" I bite my tongue to keep from blurting out the truth. I want to tell her about the rebels so badly, just because it doesn't feel right for her not to know something so big. But I don't know enough to make it big news, and it would be too dangerous. She can't know anything about this.

"Yeah, it was fun. There was a great view from the top of the cliff." Yeah, right.

"That's cool. Was it a really hard hike? I'd like to go some time." My breath catches in my throat when I think of how amazing that'd be. Not going to the cave, but hiking up the rest of the hill, of being alone with her at the top of the mountain, watching the sun set with her in my arms.

"It was pretty hard, but I bet you could do it. Maybe I should take you some time." The words are out of my mouth before I can really think about them. I want to slap myself. How stupid can I get?

"How about today?" What am I doing?

"Sorry, but I only have an hour or so tonight. I have to help my mom with chores later. Maybe some other time."

"Oh. Well, what do you want to do now?"

"Can we read? We haven't just sat around for a long time."

"That sounds nice," I say. That's fine. Reading is good.

Or not. Because I don't read. I spend the entire time watching Annie. I feel like a creepy stalker, but I can't stop. I realize that I'll never be able to forget about her, that there's no way I could find another girl that would make me forget about her, that nothing could make me forget about her. I will never be able to stay away. She's too beautiful, she's too perfect, and I love her way too much. I know she's just thirteen, hell, hell, I'm just fifteen, but I can already feel that I'm going to end up with Annie eventually. It feels so right that nothing can ever make it wrong.


	5. Love and Hate

A/N- Thank you for reading this, and I hope that you enjoy. As always, any feedback is welcome.

Finnick 16 Annie 14

I run through the empty streets, listening to the rhythmic pounding of my heart. The moon and the starts are the only things illuminating my path, the soft chirping of crickets the only real noise that I can hear. Everything is still and quiet, and I almost feel like I'm the only person alive. It's a good and bad feeling at the same time. Good because there would be no one to run from, and bad because there'd be no one to care about.

I start to wonder which is worse, people to fear or people to love, but the question isn't even worth my time. Rafe, Mags, my little sister that I never see anymore, Mr. and Mrs. Cresta, and, of course, Annie, flash through my head all at once. Without people to love, there is nothing to live for.

But now it's harder to see that than it should be. Harder because President Snow invited me to the Capitol for two weeks to visit the people of the Capitol. I guess they missed me, and apparently they weren't happy that I didn't visit them last year. I wanted to decline the invitation. I hate the Capitol, and leaving Annie for that long would be unbearable, but Mags almost started crying when I showed her the letter, and told me that there was no way I could decline an invitation to the Capitol. Borglum, who quit talking to me after I wouldn't accept an invitation to join some little rebel group, has suddenly started being nice to me again. I'd like to think that it's just because I'm leaving, but my gut tells me that it's more than that. I remember Borglum's words at the last reaping.

_Give it a couple years and you'll feel the same way. _And _This is only the beginning. _He said something else like that right after I came out of the Games too, but I can't quite remember what it was. I just know that it predicted something bad was going to happen, and by the way everyone is acting, I'm assuming that it has to do with this.

Now I'm wound up and nervous, and really a dick to be around. I haven't gotten any sleep since the letter came, and no one is helping me. Annie, who can see the best in everything, even admitted that she doesn't see any good coming out of this. Borglum got extremely pale when I asked him about it, and by the way Mags is acting, I know that she'd never tell me anything. Now, I'm heading to Rafe's house to see if he knows anything. I don't talk to him much anymore, but I need another opinion. I need someone to tell me that I'm being paranoid, that this is just a visit. I need him to say that.

When I get to his house, I tap his window twice, then wait anxiously for him to tap back. We made up a code a while ago. I tap it twice, and if I can come in, he'll hit it once. Ten seconds pass, and I'm sure that he either won't or can't answer, when he finally taps back. The window opens a second later, and I climb in.

"It's three in the morning," he says groggily. I sit down on the foot of his bed.

"I can't sleep."

"Do you ever sleep anymore?" No, not really. I've actually made a habit of running most of the night, and then getting a couple of hours of sleep while Annie is at school. It just feels safer that way.

"That's beside the point. I need you to look at something for me."

"Uh-huh." He yawns and runs a hand through his nest of sandy hair, trying to get it out of his eyes.

"Are you going to?" I ask him.

"I don't have a choice, do I?" I let myself smile a little bit, because even though I'm on edge, it's nice to hear one of his old sayings that says we are becoming friends again.

"Nope, not really."

"Okay, what is it?" he asks, then yawns again. I hand him the letter, then stare at him while he reads it. He looks up at me when he's done.

"Why am I looking at this?"

"I want to know if you think there's something weird about it."

"It's from the Capitol. There's always something weird about it." I cringe when he says that, just because I'm now aware that there are probably people listening to my every word. No one's going to care about that though. It isn't threatening at all.

"Well, I know. But Mags and Borglum are both acting strange around me too, and it started when I got that letter."

"Nah, victories are just like that," he jokes, but his eyes get serious as he rereads the letter.

"I think that's probably just the Capitol style of writing or something," he says when he's done.

"So you think it's normal?" He snorts.

"No, it's frickin creepy. But like it said, it's the Capitol." Great, that doesn't help much.

"I guess that makes sense."

"It does. I swear Finnick, those people like you too much to do anything bad to you. If I thought there was something really bad going on, I'd lock you in my basement so those freaks couldn't touch you." I smile even more now, starting to relax a little bit for the first time since I got the letter.

"It's nice to have my bodyguard back," I tell him, then slap him on the shoulder.

"Yeah, that's gonna be fifty dollars an hour," he says. I roll my eyes.

"As soon as you start protecting me, I'll start paying you," I tell him.

"Just tell me when you want me to begin," he says. Then he yawns again, even though he tries not to.

"Sorry, I should probably let you get back to sleep."

"That would be nice," he says. "I guess I'll talk to you later." I crouch on the windowsill.

"Yeah, talk to you later. Thanks for putting up with me."

"No problem. If President Snow wrote to me, I'd be freaked out too."

"Thanks. That makes me feel better," I say.

"Good night."

"Good night." Then I hop out the window and Rafe closes it behind me. I take the long way home, running around the housing part of the district, about ten miles, and pretend that I'm outrunning President Snow himself.

I'm all set to leave the next week. Alva comes to town to escort me and show me around, and Sylvia and my prep team join her to get me ready for public appearances, because apparently she isn't thrilled with the way I've been presenting myself in public. I wouldn't dare tell her this, but in my district, guys don't wear makeup, they don't spend twenty minutes making their nails into perfect shapes, and they don't wear clothes that cost as much as most houses. Really, most girls don't either. But I'm going to the Capitol, and things are very different there.

When my prep team is done with me, and Sylvia has me in clothes that are considered nice enough for the Capitol, I invite Annie over to spend my last few hours with her. I'm also planning on spilling my guts. I have no idea what's going to happen during this trip, but I have to tell her what I've thought about her for most of the last year. I have to say something. Just incase. Because I'm paranoid, and nothing that Rafe says is going to cancel that out completely.

As soon as she rings the doorbell, I tell my prep team to get lost, send them over to talk with Borglum, then lead Annie into the library.

"Are you going to be okay?" Annie asks me after she takes a seat. I start bouncing up and down on the balls of my feet. I'm nervous, and now it's not just because I'm leaving.

"I don't know. I hope so, but I have no idea." My words pour out so quickly that I'm surprised she understands them.

"You will be. They wouldn't hurt you. And it's just two weeks. Nothing can happen in two weeks." I take a shaky breath.

"Right. Nothing. But you aren't going to be there. I have no idea what I'm going to do without you for that long. God I'm going to miss you Annie." She doesn't know what to say. All I do is say that I'm going to miss her, and she doesn't know what to say. Suddenly I'm not so sure about saying anything else.

"You'll be fine without me," she says finally. "Really." I take her hand and stare at it. I can feel her looking at me, but I refuse to look into her eyes.

"I don't think that I will be, not really. I can feel something terribly wrong with this, and I'm scared that I'm going to fall apart again." My grip on her hand gets even tighter. "Annie, you're the only thing that I know can keep me together."

"You aren't going to fall apart. You're the strongest person that I know." I smile at her sadly.

"How am I strong? I allowed myself to become a monster during the Games, then cried for myself afterwards. I'm still so scared that people are after me that I have to carry a knife everywhere I go. Now, I'm going crazy enough to worry if I'm every going to come back from the Capitol in one piece, just because I'm stupid enough to think that nothing good can ever happen in my life when I know that it isn't true at all."

"All of those things are justified," she says.

"How? How is it right that I was the one crying when I was the only tribute still alive? How can you justify the fact that people everywhere look up to me, yet I can't trust them enough not to carry a weapon around? And why do you think that it's okay for me to think that I'm cursed when I've been blessed with so much. I've always had enough to eat, my family was rich, I won the damn Hunger Games, and now I have you, which is more than anyone could ever dare ask for. But it isn't enough for me. How can you stand me Annie?"

This isn't turning out like I wanted it to. Almost as if to prove my point, I'm on the brink of tears again, like I'm a two year old girl. Annie doesn't blink though, which makes me love her even more.

"I stand you because you at least try to do the right thing, because you hate yourself for what you did when you weren't in control, and because I really do know you. You put people at ease, you make them smile, and you never accept defeat."

"That's not-"

"The entire nation believes it, and so do I. You are the only person in Panem that would think for one second that you are weak." She's so fired up that's she's panting, and her green eyes are fierce. She truly believes that I'm a good person.

"I can't say that I agree with you." She shakes her head, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips.

"They had your Games on a couple nights ago, and I watched the first part again. It's unbelievable how cocky you were then, as a fourteen year old that had seemingly no chance of winning. I can't believe that you've lost all that confidence. You have to know that people actually like you better now, that you should be more full of yourself."

"Don't you think that I was annoying?"

"No. I think you're being annoying now." I sigh, knowing that she's probably right. I've been whining all morning, which I really shouldn't have wasted so much time on. Maybe it's time to bring the old Finnick back.

"So you insist that I act like that old Finnick?"

"Yes. I do." I smirk at her, then think of everything that she'd just said about me. About how she thinks that I'm strong and have an amazing personality, and how the entire nation thinks so too. There's no way that she can not like me. No way that she'd care if I kissed her right now. She probably feels the same way.

"Then you asked for it," I say as soon as I have myself convinced. Then I lean in, before my brain starts working again.

I'd imagined kissing Annie so many times before, but there are dozens of little things that I never expected. How soft her hair feels while I run my fingers through it. The way that she tastes like mint and strawberries. That warmth that spreads through my entire body when she starts kissing me back. And the way that it seems like the entire world stops for us because absolutely nothing else could possibly be important enough to keep going while her lips are touching mine.

But like everything good in life, the kiss ends way too quickly. Annie pulls away first, like I knew she would. And she has questions, because there's no way she could've expected this.

"What was that for?" she asks breathlessly.

"I was tired of just thinking about it, so I did it," I say casually, even though now I'm worried that she's going to regret kissing me back, that she's not going to believe me, that something is going to ruin this.

"Did it mean anything?" She almost sounds embarrassed to ask, but I'm glad she did. It means that she isn't stupid. Anyone who'd seen my Hunger Games interviews knows the way I play, or at least used to play, with girls. Even before the Games, I always flirted and kissed girls just to make them giggle and swoon. I'm over that now, but why would Annie think that?

"It meant everything to me," I tell her. "But what did it mean to you?" She kisses me again in response.

After that, I was so sure that everything was going to go well, that everything was going to be fine. On the first day, it was. I got to go on a tour around the Capitol, look around in amazing shops, and eat at a gourmet restaurant. I missed Annie, sure, but I was actually complacent enough to assume that the President really just wanted me there to sign autographs and get to know the people of the Capitol. I'm actually think that these two weeks won't be too bad when the attendant comes into my room and notifies me that President Snow would like to speak to me in private.

I get up and follow him through a maze of elaborate hallways with a cloud of dread hanging over me. I've never liked the president. He's the one who keeps the Hunger Games going, so there's really no way that I could like I'm. Then everything he does seems designed to make the people of the districts pay for things they didn't do. He's cruel, and ruthless, and now I'm going to be alone with him in his office. I realize that I had a right to be terrified for this trip. Something awful is going to happen. Something horribly awful.

"Finnick." He says my name like I'm an old friend. "It's good to see you after so long."

"Nice to see you too," I tell him with as little sarcasm as I can manage. I know it's stupid, but I can't help it. Fear does that to me. In situations that make most people cower in fear, I almost always manage to get myself into a worse spot than when I started."

"Please, have a seat. I'd like to speak to you about important business matters." I sit down in a hard wooden chair across his desk from him. Even though he's a couple feet away, I still can't stand his closeness. It's like sitting down to have a chat with a rattlesnake.

"What do you want to talk about?"

"Well, Finnick, it seems that you are in very high demand in the Capitol. Most everyone expected this. Really, how could they not, you're such an amazing physical specimen." I stare at him, not comprehending what he's telling me.

"What?"

"You know how much the Capitol has done for you, why, they gave you victory in the Hunger Games wrapped up in a shiny silver parachute. Don't you think that it's only right to repay them?" I ignore his friendly tone of voice.

"How?" I ask icily.

"Oh, it's very simple. You'll actually get presents from it. All that you have to do is give yourself to the beautiful women here. Do your part to show the districts how nice everyone here is." As his words slowly sink in, I feel icy fear chilling my blood stream. The dread that's been bothering me since I got the letter now develops into very real terror.

"I won't," I whisper. But I know that there's no way that I'm going to be able to defy the wishes of President Snow.

"I guess that your dead Annie will be sorry to hear that." My heart stops then, and I swear that I'm going to drop dead in that second. He knows what can hurt me more than anything.

"If I don't agree-"

"I will kill her, and your entire family," he finishes for me in a sing-song voice, like he's having fun ruining my life. Rage bubbles up inside me, but I force it to stay down. One wrong move, and everything that matters to me is gone.

"What exactly is it that you want me to do?" I ask through gritted teeth, my hands clenched into fists to keep myself from punching his face in. All of the raw desire to kill that I felt in the Games is back now, even stronger. If I could, I wouldn't just kill Snow. I would cut his limbs off one by one and laugh at his pain, just like Titus does in the nightmares that still won't leave me alone. Only I would enjoy it so much more.


	6. Why Bother?

A/N- Okay, so sorry that this took forever, but I got a new book yesterday and couldn't put it down. I'm back in commission now though, so here's chapter 6. I'm sorry if some parts aren't quite right or if I left things out that you thought I should've added. This part was hard because of all the bad things that happened to Finnick. I did do my best though, and like always, I appreciate the reviews and would love any kind of feedback. Thank you.

* * *

I lock myself in my room on the ride home from the Capitol. When Alva tries to coax me out of my room for lunch on the first day, I almost take her head off. To say that I'm irritable is a major understatement. My knife is still by my side, and I would use it if someone tried to talk to me. I should use it on myself.

There isn't any reason that I shouldn't just kill myself now. Everyone would be safe, and I wouldn't have to go through this anymore. It would be the perfect solution. But I don't have the guts to. Annie said that I was strong, that I always do what's right. Now, I can't even say that. I'm too weak to kill myself, and sleeping with six different women in two weeks definitely isn't right, especially not after I kissed Annie. I know that Snow was showing me with those women, that Annie saw. I want to throw up every time that I think about what her opinion of me is now. If it's anything near where I'm starting to think of myself, I wouldn't expect her to talk to me again.

And that horrible thing is, worse than any of this, is that I know I can't tell her anything. I have no idea what Snow would do if Annie found out about this, I just know that it wouldn't be good. That means she has to go on thinking that I'm a whoremonger, and there isn't a single thing that I can do about it.

I close my eyes and hug myself tightly, trying to forget all of this. It's impossible. I feel guilty and dirty and humiliated. Probably everyone in Panem has heard about my little field trip, and I don't doubt that now the people that live in the districts despise me. I was their hero, someone to make them look good, and now I choose money and the Capitol over them.

How could I have let this happen? Up until the Games, I was always in control. I may have lost it for a little while, but I was getting it back. Now, President Snow has taken it all away. I can't make a single move without his voice in the back of my head, telling me what to do and how to do it. Even now, I imagine his heinous laugh echoing through my mind when he sees how miserable I am.

I get out of the bed because I can't stand it any longer. I'm tired of trying to hold back all of my rage and pain. My body takes on a mind of its own, and I turn into a human tornado, destroying everything in my path. Paintings go flying, drawers are yanked out of place, and I shatter the mirror in the bathroom with my bare hand. Glass cuts into my skin and I love the way it feels, the adrenaline that comes with the pain. Without bother to even look at the damage, I start clawing open pillows, letting the filling spread all over my bed. It combines with my blood to form an ugly bloody fluff.

That's when Alva yanks open the door. Her mouth arranges itself into a neat little o.

"What have you done?" she asks in a shrill voice.

"It's my present for him," I say, my voice totally logical. I don't specify and she doesn't ask. Even a stupid Capitol escort has enough sense to know I'm talking about President Snow.

"We're only an hour away from your home. We should get you cleaned up."

"I guess. And Alva?"

"Yes?"

"Can you tell President Snow to go fuck himself?" She gapes at me and I smile. "Actually, never mind. He'd probably ask me to do it for him." Then I walk past her and find an attendant to take me to get my arm fixed.

I realize how stupid those words were almost immediately when I get a call twenty minutes later. I don't know who it is, but I know it isn't President Snow. Maybe one of his assistants.

"I'd be careful to hold my tongue if I were you. You're family would very much appreciate it. This time, I was kind enough to give you a warning, but the next time you won't be so lucky." Then he hangs up. I stare at the phone in my hands and realize how stupid I was. I throw the phone against the wall, then retreat to my room for the part of the trip.

* * *

I'm shocked to see Mags sitting on my couch when I walk into my house. There's no way that she doesn't hear me come in, but her eyes stay focused on the book that she's reading. She can't really be mad at me, because it was obvious that she knew this was going to happen.

"So, what are you ignoring me for now?" She shuts the book, but doesn't look away from the cover.

"Are you okay Finnick?" she asks me softly. ' "Obviously. Hell, that was the most fun I've had since talking to myself during the Hunger Games." Mags locks eyes with me and I look away.

"It isn't _my _fault," she says. Of course it isn't. it's the Capitol's fault. That's when the light bulb turns on and I remember the proposition Borglum made me last year. I'd more or less forgotten it, but now it's clear in my head. Join a resistance group to bring down President Snow.

"I know who's fault it is," I whisper to myself, so quietly that I'm surprised Mags can even hear it.

"Never forget that," she reminds me again. I know that she isn't worried about me blaming her, or anyone else, but she knows that I blame myself. I know that I didn't do anything wrong, but it's impossible to forget the people that I've hurt and killed, and now it's even worse, because I'm hurting Annie, the one person that I truly care about. There's only one way that I can stop hurting them, that I can stop hurting myself. And it's to bring down Snow.

"I won't. And Mags?"

"Yes?"

"I'm in." She doesn't have to ask what I'm talking about, because she knows. There's only one thing that I could be talking about.

"Oh, that's wonderful. I'm going to tell Borglum about your entry in the contest. Maybe you should go try to explain things to your Annie." Then she gets up and leaves before I can tell her that Annie probably wouldn't talk to me even if I worked up the guts to see her.

I stare at my feet for a few minutes, willing them to get up and make the trip to Annie's house, but it seems like they're loaded with lead. Nope, no way I'm going to Annie's today. When I come to that conclusion, whatever was weighing down my feet disappears and I go into my bedroom to mope around and feel sorry for myself. If I cared what anyone other than Annie thought about me, I'd probably sugarcoat that, make it seem like I still had some willpower left, but I don't, and moping is exactly what I do.

* * *

I stay in bed that entire day. Rafe breaks into my house the next morning and actually kicks down my bedroom door. I think that I may have heard him knocking yesterday, but I didn't have the energy to check. Actually, I'm contemplating just staying in bed all the time now anyway. It would be better that way, with no one to watch me deteriorate into a shell of a person as the women of the Capitol slowly eat away my soul. Wow, that was melodramatic. But sadly I'm not sure if it isn't true.

Rafe has other plans though, because after I try ignoring him for ten minutes, he starts getting frustrated.

"At least get out of bed," he says through gritted teeth.

"I don't feel like it."

"Mags is worried about you, she wanted me to help."

"I'm fine, I don't need help." I cringe at how obviously untrue that is. Rafe obviously realizes that too, because he actually laughs.

"If you don't need help, why aren't you getting up?"

"There's no point."

"Yeah, there is. We're going to the river today. Okay?"

"No," I mumble. "Now leave me alone. Maybe I'll get up tomorrow." That makes him mad. He grabs me by the color of my shirt and throws me on the ground, smacking my head against the wall in the process. I'm pissed, and I haven't slept for days, and everything just sucks right now, so I pull out my knife and hold it up to his throat. He swats it away like he didn't even notice.

"Get your damn ass out of bed and quit feeling sorry for yourself. I started thinking the old Finnick was coming back, but I guess I was dead wrong."

"Like you know anything. If half of this shit was happening to you, you would be doing the same thing."

"No, I would be dead. I wouldn't have won the Hunger Games because I'm not you, or I'm not who you used to be. Don't you remember that person? The one that no one could ever bring down."

"Obviously that isn't true." He forces me up onto my feet.

"You aren't down yet."

"I'm damn close."

"Because you're giving up." I squeeze my eyes shut and wish I could do the same with my ears. He's trying to help me, but I don't want help. I want to let myself fall apart, because I am giving up. I'm tired, and I just went to let go.

"Sometimes there's no reason to try anymore."

"Me? Mags? What about Annie?"

"Annie doesn't care anymore," I mutter, not knowing what else to say.

"Make her." Then he walks out, not checking to see if his words changed anything. They did. Those last two changed everything. Make her. I have to make her see that I do love her, there's no other option. I'm not going to lose Annie.

* * *

When I knock on the Crestas door and Annie opens it, I forget everything else. All I can think of is how amazing it is to see her again after over two weeks. She's unbelievably beautiful, as always, even though her sea green eyes are now carefully guarded. She's going to try to shut me out.

"Can we talk?" I ask her. She tries for a smile but doesn't really manage one.

"Of course we can. Why can't we? I mean, I haven't seen you for a very long time, and there's so much that you have to tell me about the Capitol. It looks so beautiful on tv, and I guess you couldn't enjoy it during the Hunger Games, but you must've seen more of it now. Is it really-"

"Annie. You're babbling." My voice actually cracks, but she doesn't even notice. Her mouth clamps shut and she almost looks embarrassed. Why? Doesn't she know that I'm the one who should be embarrassed?

"Sorry. I usually don't act like this."

"You don't have to tell me. I know you remember?" I just wish that she could really know me. Everything.

"Oh, yeah sorry. I'm nervous. Crap, no not nervous. I didn't say nervous. There's nothing to be nervous about. I- I'm-I-" She's started crying now, and I can tell that she wants to keep going, to do something to draw my attention away from the fact that she's seconds away from falling apart, but she's run out of things to say. God I want to kiss her so badly. I want to hold her and tell her that everything is going to be okay. I want to do something to make her forget about this. But I can't run, not from this. Nothing that I do will make Annie forget. I just have to clean up the damage as well as I can.

_Then I'll have to do the same thing next time. _I chase the thought out of my head immediately.

"Annie, please don't cry. I can explain-" She holds up her hand, then takes a shaky breath.

"That isn't necessary. I understand everything perfectly. You kissed me, then realized how stupid it was as soon as you got to the Capitol and saw all of the rich, beautiful women there. I know that you regret it, so we don't have to talk about it anymore. We can make things go back to the way they were before." Her words are soft, but she delivers them in a perfectly steady voice. Every word is like another punch in the gut.

"I don't regret it," I say softly. This caught her off guard, I can tell by the way just the slightest bit of hope flickers in her eyes. She squashes it down immediately.

"Then why would you…?" For some reason that drives me nuts, the way that she won't just put the ugly truth out there for everyone to see.

"Just say it Annie. I laid half the women in the Capitol." She cringes at how bluntly I put it.

"Why?" she asks again. This is the tricky part. The part that I need to lie about, but I can't just say something that makes me sounds horrible.

"Because- because-" I can't think of anything. How pathetic. I'm always so smooth with words, but when I need them most I can't do anything but stutter.

"Do you even know?" she asks me. Yes, I do. Because I was forced to. If I didn't, you would be dead. I look her straight in the eye, trying to communicate the words, but she doesn't understand. She just stands there, waiting for an answer.

"I thought it would be fun," I mutter, looking down at the floor. "All of the other victors from around here were telling me about their trips to the Capitol, and I thought that it sounded exciting. But you have no idea how horrible I feel now. I wasn't thinking, and now I have to pay for it. I swear that I will never do it again, I swear. Please forgive me." I sound horrible, shallow, stupid.

"That doesn't sound like you," she says. For some reason hearing that makes me almost happy. She still knows who I am, she believes that I'm not a horrible person.

"I had a relapse after I saw something that reminded me of the games and I freaked out. I'm sorry, for the millionth time. I don't even know their names Annie, I don't care about them at all. I love you." The angry look disappears from her face and I can tell that I got Annie back. She isn't stupid, but she trusts me more than anything, even after I hurt her. Sure, I feel bad that I wasn't honest with her, but I couldn't have told her the truth without putting her in a ton of danger.

"But you're okay now?" she asks me.

"I feel like shit, sure, but I'm fine. I've been fine since I saw you." Then I wrap my arms around her and bury my face in her hair and pretend that everything is going to be okay, that I'm not going to have to think of another excuse whenever President Snow wants me back, and that I'm not going to have to let go of the girl that I do love eventually.

* * *

"We need to find something that is going to start this rebellion, that's going to convince the districts that it's time to rebel," Borglum states, pacing back and forth in front of the rocks. Him, the girl who won this year who's name is Eliza, a gray haired man in his early fifties named Felix, and Mags. I had to carry Mags most of the way up here myself, and I'm still feeling the effects. I can hardly sit up straight, let alone listen to Borglum's ceaseless ranting. I joined the rebel cause wanting to kill President Snow in the slowest, most painful way possible. I didn't sign up for boring meetings and lots of worrying.

"Why would we have to do that?" I ask in a bored tone. "President Snow already has that accomplished with the Hunger Games." Everyone stares at me like I started stripping down right there in front of them. I guess I'm not usually very vocal at these things. There isn't any reason to be. It's all talk, and everyone knows that nothing is really going to happen.

After a short period of somewhat awkward silence, Eliza decides to speak. "The Hunger Games are the reason that we're rebelling, but we need something more. Something to give the districts the hope that they need to win. Until they have hope, they aren't going to consider acting out. We have to do something to at least get them thinking about rebellion."

I give her a look of admiration. That is why she won the Hunger Games just a few months ago and already has her head intact. All she did was think and set traps. She never really killed a human being, and I don't even think she had any really bad injuries either. She's just got this instinct for knowing how to make nearly anything work. Even though I doubt that she could get this rebellion going. We'll need a miracle for that.

"Thank you Eliza. And she's right Finnick. The Hunger Games are our reason to rebel, but we need something more. Something that will give everyone the hope that victory isn't impossible."

"Maybe if we gave the districts a leader, then they'd get the courage to rebel. The only problem is that they see me, Borglum, and especially Finnick acting like prostitutes with people from the Capitol. No one remembers if anything like that happened with Felix or Mags, but neither of them have the charisma that helped Finnick, Borglum, and I win our Games." Eliza says the words easily, but everyone gapes at her. Not only did she just suggest we allow everyone we love to be killed, but she also brought up the secret in the bluntest way possible. The secret that has me sitting through these meetings. The one that's prevented Borglum from ever getting over his Games. And the one that now obviously haunts Eliza. I guess that shouldn't surprise me, seeing as she's drop dead gorgeous, but it does. She seems so invincible. I should've figured out that there isn't any such thing a long time ago.

"Are you suggesting that one of us refuses to go along with Snow?"

"No, I would never ask that of anyone. I'm saying that we wait for the right time, for a victor that really can help us. Not necessarily from here, but from one of the districts that wants to rebel. And as soon as we find that person, we'll start making them into something that we can use to bring down the Capitol. Everyone needs someone to follow. We just have to wait until the right person, preferably a victor, comes along."

"What's wrong with Finnick?" Felix asks, joining the conversation. "I know people have seen him with the women from the Capitol, but they still look up to him. He'd be perfect as the face of the rebellion." I look up at him, trying to see whether he's serious. All of the victors have to know how I used to go for days without leaving my house, how the only time that I even go out now if with Annie. They've all seen me jump at people with my knife, or watch for things that aren't really there. Every single one of the people here has to know that I'm not mentally stable enough to be a leader. I wouldn't anyway, not when it would endanger Annie. There's only so far I would go for a chance to kill President Snow.

"Finnick will be powerful once the rebellion starts, but he won't be the one to start it. To the people that don't know him, he seems like he might as well have been born in the Capitol. He doesn't have a story behind him, not one that can be told yet. There's no way that the starving people in the districts would take up arms to follow a god-like rich kid that's seemingly perfect. We need someone that seems real." Even though I hate the way that she's describing me, I'm relieved that I've been thrown out from under the bus. Every word that she said is true anyway, even if I hate to admit it.

I vaguely remember thinking that before my Games too, that I'm way too much like the people from the Capitol. I feel a shiver run down my spine, even though I know that I've changed. But have I? I could say that I don't mess with girls like I used to, but I technically do. I could say that I don't get people to do what they want for me witih my looks, but I have the Capitol worshipping me. And I could say that I've gotten over the love of killing that I had for a short time during the Games, but right now my biggest desire is to murder Snow. I guess I am just like the people in the Capitol. Then I look around and see that everyone else in this cave is really almost just like me. I have to wonder if maybe the people in the Capitol aren't really that different from any of us.

"What about you, or even Borglum?" I ask to get my mind off that train of thought. I have to stop overanalyzing things, that's probably why I'm so depressed. And I am interested in this conversation too. Even though it's unrealistic, I love how they're talking like all of this is really going to happen. It actually gives me just the slightest bit of hope.

"Neither of them would work," Mags says. "Eliza doesn't have enough presence. She has all of the needed attributes, but she isn't the type of person that everyone would follow. And Borglum has way too much of a violent history for anyone to trust." I look for any inkling that either of them are unhappy to be shot down, but like me they both seem almost relieved. I guess that's only to be expected. Becoming the face of a rebellion that's doomed to fail isn't high on anyone's list. I try to picture what the perfect leader would be like but fail. There is absolutely no one that could get the districts to stand up to the Capitol. It's too unrealistic.


	7. A Mission

A/N- Okay, I am so sorry that this took so long, especially since it is so short. My best friend since like first grade is moving away, so I've been spending all of my with him. I did manage to get this written out though, and I swear that I'll have a ton more by Friday. Thank You to everyone who's reviewed this or added it as one of their favorite stories.

Finnick 17, Annie 15

"You're beautiful," I whisper, burying my face in the woman's hair and kissing her head. It feels all wrong, my gut twisting horribly, but I know that I have to do that. The women, maybe thirty, puts her hands on my chest.

"Nothing compared to you," she giggles. I kiss her hard, like I can't wait to get enough. I taste the wine on her lips. My skin starts crawling, but of course she doesn't notice.

"Nah, you've got me beat Angel." I've learned that they like it when I call them Angel, every single woman in the Capitol. Something about the heavenly creatures appeals to them for some reason that I can't quite comprehend. If I was being honest, I would call them witches.

"You're such a sweet boy," she says, then laughs, obviously drunk. If she wasn't crawling all over me, I would almost laugh at how obviously wrong this all is. She can't keep her hands off of me, and she's calling me a sweet boy.

"You do realize that doesn't mean this is free," I tell her, keeping my voice in the same seductive purr that I've been using, even though I doubt that she can notice. She puts a pink hand on my face.

"Oh, you must realize that doesn't matter for me. Just name your price." I lean in close to her ear,

"All that I need to know is your secrets." She turns her head and kisses me once, biting my lip softly. A shiver runs through my body, but definitely not in a good way.

"I like the way you deal," she says. "Now, what do you want to know?" I smile now, ignoring the horrible feeling that this always gives me. At least something good comes out of this, something that can help the growing rebellion.

"Tell me about President Snow. Everything that you know." The woman, his secretary from two years ago, laughs hysterically.

"You aren't going to believe any of this," she manages to get out through her drunken laughs. Then she launches into a plethora of stories that one day may ruin the Capitol. I close my eyes and lean my head back against my pillow. Even if this does help bring Snow down, is it worth it?

* * *

"Why do you keep doing this to me?" Annie shrieks as soon as I walk into my house. She was waiting for me. I guess she can't stand it anymore. That was my fourth trip to the Capitol. The first time, I had an excuse. The second time, I was careful enough not to get caught. She cried the third time, until I convinced her that I wasn't going to do it again. Now, I did it again, and I can tell that there's no way I'm going to get out of this. The truth is dangerous, but I don't know what else to do. I have to either tell her or lose her.

"Annie, Honey, calm down."

"Don't call me that. I hate you." I try to kiss her to make her stop, but she elbows me in the gut. I back away. "You can't just make this go away. I want an explanation."

"Annie, it's complicated." She takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself down, but it obviously doesn't work.

"It's pretty simple to me. I'm not old enough for you, or maybe I'm not pretty enough, so you have to tear through the Capitol women whenever you get a chance."

"So what? You think I'm a whoremonger?" I shouldn't be getting mad. She has every right to hate me, and I know it. There's no way that I should be yelling at her for something that isn't her fault.

"I don't know what to think."

"I love-"

"No, you don't." I run my hand through my hair and walk away, trying to collect my thoughts. I have to tell her, but some place where President Snow can't hear. The only place that I know of is the cave where some of the victors meet to talk about our strategies for the rebellion, but that's a six mile walk. I guess the only thing that I can do is try to convince her to go on a six mile hike with me without making it obvious to President Snow that I'm going to give away my secret.

"Annie, this is stupid. I just want to be alone with you and forget the Capitol."

"Really? Because you don't seem to eager to forget about the Capitol when you rush there every time you get an invitation. Don't you know how to say no?"

"Annie, I've been gone for two weeks. I want to spend time with you," I say, ignoring her.

"Why would you even care? Isn't it nice to be able to get away from your bitchy sort of girlfriend for a while?" I put my hands on her shoulders and hold her in place when she tries to step away.

"You are so much more than just a girlfriend, and I'm totally lost when I'm not around you." She looks at her feet and shakes her head.

"I don't understand you."

"You don't have to. Just come with me and I'll make you forget everything."

"I'm not stupid," she says.

"I know that."

"If we've ever had anything, it's over." I take a deep breath and close my eyes. I can't help but being slightly devastated even though I know that it won't, can't last, after she hears what's really going on. And she isn't stupid, she knows how to keep a secret, she isn't going to allude to it or do anything wrong. This isn't putting her in danger.

"No, Annie. Just give me one more chance. I swear that you'll understand if you just give me a chance." She sets her jaw and looks me straight in the eye. It takes everything that I have to hold her gaze.

"No." She turns to walk away, but I grab her arm. Then I pull her really close to me so that my lips are brushing against her ear. She tries to pull back, but I root her in place.

"It isn't safe to tell you here." She sucks in a gulp of air, then steps away from me.

"I don't want to go with you," she says again, but now it's obvious that she's just acting for whatever bugs are stuck around my house.

"Please. You'll understand if we just have some time alone together."

"Fine."

The walk up the mountain is silent. She's still mad at me, and very cautious, because she has no idea what's going on. I'm starting to wonder if it'd be safe to say something outside of the cave, but then I realize that her life is at stake, and if I so much as muttered an out of place syllable that Snow heard, he would kill her.

"Where are we going?" she asks after a few miles. She doesn't seem tired, but I'm guessing that she didn't expect it to be quite this long either.

"It's just another couple miles," I say back. She doesn't say anything else until we get to the cave.

"This is it," I say, my voice now constricted by fear. How am I going to be able to tell her this?

"So what is going on this time?" she asks me, almost tiredly. I take a deep breath.

"If you are a victor that is considered physically attractive, President Snow encourages you to 'give back to the people of the Capitol'. Borglum and Eliza both have to do it to." She stares straight ahead, not even batting an eye.

"And how does he encourage you?" Another deep breath.

"He threatened to kill you, and my entire family." She swallows, then looks down at her feet.

"You wouldn't joke about this, would you?"

"No, I wouldn't." Then she runs over and hugs me tightly. I hold her against me, again hoping that the feeling of strength I get whenever she's close never leaves. I know better, but I can always hope.

* * *

"Is it really that complicated?" I almost shout. Everyone stares at me like I'm going crazy.

"You'd just get yourself killed," Mags says.

"No one would believe a word of it," Borglum adds.

"And if they did, it wouldn't do any good anyway. People wouldn't risk defying Snow based on rumors that you start," Eliza finishes. I sigh.

"There's going to be a risk factor involved no matter what we do," I say weakly, knowing that I'm outvoted on this.

"But other plans that we're making have a better chance at working," Eliza says. "Besides, we don't need to make the districts mad at the president, we just need to give them a plan that's sound enough to work. You're just trying to fuel the flames, even though it's about as high as it's going to get."

"I don't think that's completely true," Felix says to Eliza. "Every little thing that will remind the districts of how unjust this is will help. There isn't any limit to how high this fire can burn. Sure, getting a foolproof plan would be nice, but wouldn't pisses the districts off until they can't take it anymore work as well?"

Felix says the whole thing as nicely as possible, but Eliza starts to get pissed off anyway. She can't stand to be disagreed with, and I know that she's going to argue until everyone agrees with her.

"We don't want them to get mad enough to stupidly rush at the Capitol with torches and pitchforks. There's no way that we'll win if the only thing that gets us going is anger."

"I'm getting confused," I say out loud. First the obvious answer is to get someone to lead the rebellion, now it's to lay down a foolproof plan, but we don't want to make the districts angry, like they aren't already dreaming about President Snow's death. It seems like there isn't anything that's going to get the districts to actually rebel.

"Torches and pitchforks? Is that what you think of the other districts?" Felix asks, ignoring me. "No one would just start trying to beat up the Capitol. We'd get generals, make plans. Even if everyone isn't as smart as you, most of us have functioning brains."

"Really? You're stupid if you think that those other districts are smart enough to win this thing without everything going perfectly. What about the districts like 11 and 12, where everyone is starving, and a good chunk of the population is uneducated. Or how about the districts that are close to the Capitol, like 1 and 2? Neither of them would fight with us unless they're sure we're going to win. Everyone is going to die if they follow you!" Eliza shouts at Felix. Her usually pale face is now glowing bright red.

"Would you guys shut up?" Borglum asks. He glares especially at Felix, probably because he should know better. I'm mad at Eliza for mouthing off like that, but I don't have an actual opinion on the issue.

"I'm sorry, I guess we got carried away," Felix says. Then he looks at me. "What were you talking about?"

"Telling Snow's secrets."

"Well, I'm sorry, but I may have to agree with Eliza on that one. It's a good idea, but we can't afford to lose you, and you would die if Snow got even the slightest inkling where the information came from."

I wonder if this guy was even listening when we came to that conclusion five minutes ago.

"Yeah, I realize that now."

"So, is anything else that we want to discuss?" Eliza asks.

"I'd like to recommend Cashmere Pearl as a possible leader for the rebellion," Borglum says.

"She looks like a bitch," I offer.

"So do you," Eliza shoots back. "She has a pretty face, but how smart is she? And would she even go along with the rebellion? She's from One. It may be a fatal mistake if we try to enlist her help."

"I second that," Felix says.

"I can't trust her," Mags says.

"Same here," I say. Borglum shrugs.

"Just an option." Not a very good one. If they didn't want to pick me because I don't have a story, picking a rich girl from District 1 wouldn't be much of an improvement.

"We're getting desperate," Eliza says.

"Well, duh. We've been talking about this crap for over a year and not a single thing has happened," I tell them.

"We're waiting for the right time," Mags says, but I can tell that she's worried too.

"This isn't going to happen overnight," Eliza says. Everyone mumbles agreement then, because we know this is right. Everything has to be perfect before we start, no matter how long that takes.


	8. The Reaping

A/N- Sorry about how short it is, but it just seemed like a good spot to end. Thank you for reading.

* * *

Finnick 19 Annie 16

"Just three more years, then you'll be safe," I tell Annie as she clutches my arm for dear life. I'm walking her to the reaping again, just like I have for the past three years. And just like before, we're both terrified.

"He doesn't like me," Annie whispers. "I ruin your image." I take a deep breath, knowing exactly what she means. I'm supposed to be some unattainable flirt that breezes through woman after woman because not even the ladies of the Capitol can hold my interest. When people see me with Annie over and over again, though, that image starts to crumble. Snow can't like that, and getting rid of Annie would be the perfect solution. Not to mention romantic. I can just see the headlines- **The True Love of Finnick Odair Is Thrown Into the Games. **

Oh, the media would eat that up now that most people know about Annie. I'm not sure how that happened, but one second she was invisible, then suddenly everyone seems to know about her. The last time I was in the Capitol, three different reporters asked me about the girl from District 4, and one of the stupid whores that I was with giggled about how hot it was that I was cheating on my girlfriend. It took everything I had not to punch her.

"You'll be fine Annie," I whisper, even though now that I think about it, I'm not so sure. There are way too many things stacked against Annie. The instincts that helped me win my Games are now flashing on red alert.

"Be brave," I whisper into Annie's hair when a peacekeeper steps over to take her away from me.

"I will," she says softly. I kiss her lips gently for just a second, then walk onto the stage.

"You okay?" Borglum asks when I plop into the seat next to his.

"No," I answer truthfully.

"It'll be fine," he says, but his voice isn't exactly encouraging.

The speeches and formalities fly by in what seems like seconds, and before I know it, Alva is stepping over to the glass balls.

"Ladies first," she sings. Then she reaches in. Her pale pink hands unfold the paper. As soon as she sees the name, her eyes flit over to me for just a second, but that's enough to make me bury my face in my hands. I can't even hear the name because I'm already plummeting into some dark space that doesn't seem to have air, because I can't breathe. I can almost feel myself floating around, blind, fighting for oxygen.

"Finnick," Borglum whispers. I know that I should say something back, but I don't want to listen to whatever he has to say, I don't want to listen to anything. Annie is going to the Games.


	9. The Meaning Of Life

A/N- Okay, this feels better than my last ones, and I hope you think so too. Hopefully my updates will become more frequent too. As always, please read and reviews, and I appreciate everyone who's stuck with this story so far. Thank you.

* * *

I remember the Games two years after mine, where the only weapons in the arena were these huge clubs. I never paid very close attention, but I remember thinking about how painful those deaths would be. Just getting beaten to death by a thick wooden club. It was horrible, worse than most of the others, because no one died right away. They had all these bruises, all this messed up internal damage, but they just wouldn't die. This one girl's death really stood out to me. She was small, one of the youngest, and she had this beautiful curly blonde hair that fell down her back in shimmering waves.

There was this guy there that year, one of the biggest I've seen in the Games, and ruthless. He takes the club to this girl, hitting her again and again, long after she's dead. Her entire body was pounded into a bloody pulp, and I remember that her beautiful hair ended up saturated in blood and who knows what else. But the most haunting thing, now that I think about it, was her sea green eyes. When they showed her image after she'd died, I held Annie a little bit tighter, just because their eyes were so similar.

Well, now that image flies into my head, the heap of broken flesh that was left of that little green eyed girl. Except her blonde hair turns dark, and her features transform into Annie's. I can actually hear her screams echoing through my ears.

That image stays with me as Mags comes over to me, as she wraps her arms around me, trying to comfort me. It stays with me as she leads me to the Justice Building, and as she gently prods me into the room where they're keeping Annie.

For a second, she's still bloody and broken, but then my mind clears, and it's like I'm hit by a truck. Everything that I'm in such horrible danger of losing is suddenly right there in front of me, and I swear that I'm going to just break down. I made it through my Games, I made it through the depression that followed, and I'm fighting through what President Snow is forcing me to do. Hasn't my life been terrible enough? What kind of sick joke is it that I have to watch the girl that I love more than anything, the girl that I would die for, suffer? And why did it have to be Annie? Sweet, gentle, perfect Annie? She doesn't deserve this, she doesn't deserve to have her life scarred by the Hunger Games, she's never done anything to anybody. She can't die yet, she just can't. It's impossible.

"Finnick," she whispers. Her voice is strong and brave, but I can hear the undercurrent of fear in it too. That's what makes me remember that Annie doesn't need me to mope right now. She needs me to be the Finnick that she fell in love with, the one that can hold her and convince her that everything is going to be okay. I hate to admit it, but I haven't been that to her for a very long time. It seems like I've been doing the opposite, with everything Snow's been doing, and all of the rebel meetings. It's more like I'd been working my hardest to make her believe that the world is falling apart when it really wasn't. Now, when it actually is, I have to make her believe that it's not. I have to convince her that the Games aren't horrible, that even if you win, it almost gets worse, that there is no such thing as a true victory.

"Annie," I say back, in the strongest voice that I can muster. Then I wrap my arms around her and bury my face in her hair, breathing in her amazing scent. I don't want to leave her ever again, I don't know if I can leave her, but I have to. The mentors are already decided upon, and Mags and Borglum are going again. I should've been trained. I should've volunteered to go. If I did, I could spend another week with Annie. But I was too scared, so all that I can do now is watch.

"Don't let me go," Annie whispers to me. I wrap my arms around her more tightly, but I know that I'm going to have to let go eventually.

"You should say good-bye to your parents," I tell her. The words barely escape my throat. Annie turns her head and kisses me softly one more time, then takes a step back. It's physically painful.

"I love you Finnick," she says.

"Mags will get you home," I tell her. Then I kiss her forehead and walk out of the room before I break down completely. I should be stronger than this, I'm a victor for crying out loud. There shouldn't be anything that should be able to hurt me this much, but it seems like Annie and I are connected in some messed up way, like everything that she's involved in involves me too, and like if she dies, I'll drop dead at the exact same time.

When I'm out of the Justice Building, I'm completely lost. I don't know where to go, I have no idea what I should be thinking or doing. I'm lost. The fog is back, along with a slight edge of hysteria. My thoughts are numb, I can't really feel anything, but I know they aren't in order either. I can vaguely tell that I'm pacing back and forth, wandering aimlessly down streets. My hand goes to my waist, where I still carry the same knife I've had since my Games. I take it out and grip it tightly in my hands, just because it makes me feel better. Well, and because I'm in the mood to draw some blood from anyone who messes with me.

No one does though. I don't think I see anyone, but it's not like I'd notice anyway. It's not like it matters. Nothing matters. Annie is going to the Games, and even if she wins, it will be a fate worse than death. I hold my hands in front of my face and wonder if I really believe that. I don't want Annie dead, no matter what the Games do to her. I'm just that selfish.

But then again, I don't think Annie will make it back. I don't know how she can. She's too good of a person to win the Games, and I know that no one good even wins the Games, not if they stay good. I won the Games more convincingly than I've ever seen, and really, that's because I became so inhuman, cold, calculating.

Really, I think I still am. I never laugh unless I'm with Annie. I haven't really felt anything that doesn't have to do with her since I've gotten over my depression, the horror. I have to wonder if that's because I love her enough that I can't feel anything other than her. That doesn't make life without her promising, if she doesn't come back. I release my breath in a whoosh of air. What have I become? Nothing keeps me alive other than a girl. And then, am I really even alive? Everything since Snow first got to me seems like a giant blur. I remember moments with Annie, remember happiness, but that's it. I close my eyes, take a deep breath. What happened to the person that I used to be? Girls don't chase me anymore, not the ones outside of the Capitol. Everyone avoids me. If Annie dies, I'm contemplating killing myself. And even as I realize all of this, I can't even make myself care. Annie's going to the Games, and there's nothing else to care about.

My feet start moving again, my ugly thoughts evaporate, and I continue on, grateful when my mind fogs over again.

You know, it's strange that my world can be falling apart all at once, but that I can't even notice it. There's this dull ache in my heart, but that's it. I'm beginning to truly think that I might be able to make it through the following weeks like this. That is, until I find myself in front of the ocean. I stare for a second, decide that going on is better than stopping, and step into the ocean.

I can swim for nearly as long as I can walk, but the water awakens me. My thoughts sharpen again, and I can feel my heart beat for the first time today. At least I think it's still the day of the Reaping. I look up, surprised to see stars dotting the sky. It feels like I've been walking for maybe an hour. Strange. I roll onto my back and float on the calm water, staring at the glittering stars. The only sound I can hear is my heart beating, and for some reason it seems disjointed, like it can't even beat right without Annie here. It hurts too, every beat sending this weird hollow thud through my entire body. But the water caresses me, and I know that it's been there even longer than Annie has, and that no one will take it away from me. That thought comforts me, and I lie there until I can't stay awake any longer. Then I swim back to shore and fall asleep on the cool white sand.

I don't sleep for long though. With no fog, no pain to distract me, the things that I've managed to keep out of my mind all day come back to me. Nightmares of my Games return with as much force as they had as soon as I got out of the arena, except now Annie is added in. She takes Kyra's, the girl I'd flirted with during training, place during the scene where she gets her heart eaten out by Titus. She takes her half-sister's place when the arrow pierces her heart. And maybe worst of all, I kill her instead of the girl from District 1. I blow a kiss to her dead body, and tell her that the beautiful ones are the most fun to kill. Then I walk away smiling, just like I did when it actually happened.

I jolt awake right after that, but it's like the nightmare hasn't ended. It's even worse because I know that I would've killed Annie in those Games too. Sure, I couldn't now, but I remember how I knew that I'd kill Arowana if I had to. I didn't fall in love with Annie right away, it'd taken a couple years. If it'd been under the same circumstances, I could've killed Annie just like I would've done with her sister if she hadn't already died. That makes me feel even worse than reliving my Games did.

I lie on the beach and watch the sun slowly rise into the sky, but my thoughts are far away, at the Capitol, and at the arena the awaits Annie.

I don't plan on moving for the entire day, preferably not until Annie comes home, and if she doesn't, then I plan on walking into the ocean and never coming out. It doesn't quite work that way though. Rafe, surprisingly, finds me at about noon. It isn't lost on me that this is the same place where our friendship totally shattered. Sure, it'd been somewhat fixed for a while, but after seeing me sleep with half the women in the Capitol, he sort of quit talking to me. He actually came over to my house and cussed me out pretty good for it. That's why I'm so shocked to see him strolled up beside me.

"You look like shit," he says. I laugh humorlessly.

"I've never heard that before."

"That surprises me. I've been hearing stories about how fucked up you've gotten." I turn a little bit so I'm facing him.

"You know Rafe, I've been thinking a lot lately, and I don't really think that I've gotten fucked up. I've always been there. All anyone has had to do is stick me in an arena with a knife and some kids and let me loose."

"You're a decent person," Rafe says. Another laugh.

"Not really. I love Annie, but she's the only thing left I care about. I'm not even going to pretend that I haven't given up on you."

"That's no your fault, I've been a prick."

"And I've been a whoremonger, a murderer, and a lunatic. It's only natural you'd avoid me."

"This isn't your fault Finnick." Yeah, it's Snow's. And I'm going to suck him up real good for it too.

"I doubt that. I'm the one doing everything, so it must be my fault."

"The Games changed you."

"I don't think the Games really change people, I just think that they show what you're truly like."

"Finnick, it's not just what you're doing. You're acting dead."

"I basically am. Annie's the only thing that was keeping me alive, and as soon as she's gone, I have no reason to live. It's fucked up, but it's true."

"She'll make it," Rafe says. I shake my head.

"She's too good to make it out of that arena alive. Now, enough talk about this shit. What are you doing here?"

"I guess I assumed you'd need help."

"And you care?"

"I do have a heart."

"At least one of us does," I say.

"You love Annie," he argues.

"Yeah, and nothing else." And he has nothing to say about that. "Don't sweat it Rafe, I know it's true. I'm broken beyond repair. There's nothing that can fix me, and everyone knows it. Okay? Annie's going to die, and it isn't going to matter if you're here to help me out or not, because the second her cannon blows, I'm as good as dead. So you can go back home to your actual friends and laugh at the carnage."

"I don't-"

"Shit, yeah, sorry. That's me. Now go. I want to be alone."

"I don't just want to leave you here," he says. I sigh because I can tell that he's not going to go away.

"Let's go back to my house and check out the tv. They may have something on about Annie." He helps me up, then we walk back to my house together.

There isn't anything to do for the next week except watch and wait. Rafe stays with me the whole time, and Eliza drops in very frequently. I only move from in front of the tv when absolutely necessary, and I don't sleep until I can't possibly stay awake any longer.

I watch as Annie rides in her chariot, dressed in a beautiful mermaid costume. I watch her pick out the perfect stations at training, learning to survive rather than learning how to fight, which is the only way she has a chance to win, and I see her score a nine in training. I watch as she nails her interview, describing her home, her family, recalling the Games the she watched her sister go through, and telling the audience about a boy waiting for her back home, being very vague about who he is. Then I watch as the tributes retreat to the remake center, and I get as much sleep as I can before they start the Games, because I'm not going to miss a single moment that Annie's on that screen.


	10. It's Crazy

A/N- Well, so much for more frequent updates. But, whatever, here's the chapter. It's a little short, but I hope that you like it. As always, I'd like to hear any criticism or compliments you have. Thank you.

The day that the Games started was most likely the worst night of my life. Before my own Games, there was the adrenaline, the strategizing, all that to think about. Before Annie's there's nothing to think about except for her. The nightmares start coming back full force, and there's nothing that I can do about it. Rafe and Eliza take turns watching me, I'm guessing to make sure that I don't kill myself in my sleep, but I couldn't do that if I wanted to. Something in my head tells me that maybe if I don't look away from the television, Annie will come home.

From when I awake to the voice of Claudius Templesmith announcing the favorites and whatnot. It's not important, so I only pay attention when Annie's face comes up. Since District 4 has had victors two of the past four years, it's impossible to count her out, but she definitely isn't a favorite. I ignore that. Eliza wasn't either, and she won.

Then the actual Games are ready to start, and the camera goes to the arena. The one that I notice immediately is that there's no water Annie can use, not to her advantage anyway. The main sources of water is deep, raging river the flows in a circle around the arena. A dam of rocks prevents it from entering the actual arena in more than a trickle, and that won't help Annie at all. Other than the river, which seems to be the main feature of that arena, it's basically just a humungous field. There are very few trees, lots of chin high yellow grass, and herds of strange animals that storm around the outskirts of the arena. The only place that I can imagine would offer any kind of shelter is a mountain range about ten miles from the cornucopia. I pray that Annie has enough sense to go there.

I don't have any more time to pray though, because then the platforms rise and the camera pans out to show the tributes coming up into the arena. All of them look around in confusion, except for the tributes from Four. I'm guessing that they're hearing the sound of the rushing river. So many rivers cut through Four on their way to the ocean that Annie and the boy from out district, Altos, have got to recognize the noise.

It's sort of a good thing, too, because both of them are ready when the cornucopia sounds, when most of the other tributes are still searching for the sound of the roar. Neither of them try to get supplies though, for which I'm both thankful and weary. I don't want Annie to get caught up in the blood bath, but I also want her to have something at least. At least she runs off with Altos, so she has someone to help her out, at least for now.

I watch as Annie and Altos run from the cornucopia as fast as they can, and towards the mountains too. They have a decent head start over the other tributes, so I found myself relaxing for a while, until they basically just quit showing them. I understand that they weren't killing anybody, but updates every hour just made me horribly nervous.

Both of them make it through the night, though, and they get to the mountains the next day. I actually relax for just a second after they get a nice camp set up in this cave where it's impossible for anyone to sneak up on them. That is, until the Gamemakers decide that it's getting boring. The fire starts a mile away, so I'm not too concerned at first. Then I realize how dry that grass really is, and how fast it burns up. It takes just a matter of minutes for the fire to turn half of the savanna into a barren wasteland. It wipes out another three tributes, but it also leaves smoke everywhere.

It's obvious that none of the tributes can see more than a few feet in front of their face, not to mention that Annie and Altos are forced out of their cave because of the lack of ventilation. So by that night both of them are crawling on the ground, unable to see, with no weapons on them. My nerves are strung up to their breaking point. Eliza holds my hand, whispering to me that everything's going to be okay. I know something's wrong when he words die in her throat. I see the other tributes a second after she does. Three big Careers, wearing some kind of gasmasks, walking right towards Annie and Altos.

I watch in horror as one of the Careers basically trips over Altos. Then, before he can react, the Career jabs his hand into his back and pins him to the ground. Another takes a huge knife and brings it down on his neck. No warning, nothing. It happens so fast that I can hardly comprehend it, but sure enough, it happens. I barely even have time to be afraid for Annie before the Careers are past, without even seeing her.

But even after they're long gone, Annie doesn't move. She lies on the ground, in the middle of all that unnatural smoke, curled up into a little ball. I know that the Gamemakers are probably getting mad at her because they can't take Altos' body until she moves, but she just won't. After a little while longer, she even starts shaking. I just watch in horror, willing her to move, praying that she can get her head together. But she doesn't. Eventually the Gamemakers must decide that they're just going to have to take the body, because the hovercraft comes and picks Altos up, then goes away.

The sun dips below the horizon, then raises again. My eyes are drooping, and my head is pounding from lack of sleep, but I can't look away, not with Annie so vulnerable like that.

Eventually, Annie does get up, and she even makes her way to a part of the mountain without smoke, but there's a blank look in her eyes, and I really don't think she knows what she's doing. It seems like she's wandering around, rather than actually doing anything useful. That's made more obvious when, after she paces around in front of a small crevice, she just ducks inside and gets into the fetal position.

Claudius Templesmith is having a field day trying to wonder what's wrong with her, but I already have a pretty good idea. Annie, perfect, sweet, Annie, just saw someone she knew, her ally, get his head cut off. She can't handle it, just like she won't win these Games. She's a decent person, and there's no way that she's going to make it. She can't handle death, not like that anyway.

Another day passes, and she doesn't move an inch. She has to be getting hungry, but whatever sponsors she may have had are gone now, and no food comes her way. I don't know if she'd eat anyway. She's staring into space, holding her legs to her chest, and shaking back and forth a little bit. She's gone, and the Games did this to her, and now she's going to die, and I basically lose my ability to function with her.

My mind becomes all consumed with death visions of Snow, the only thing that I can feel is hate, hate for Snow, hate for whoever ends up killing her, and hate for myself for letting this happen.

There are nine tributes left the next morning. One more dies. Annie doesn't move. None die the next day, or the one after that. I'm sort of in my own little world at this point, but most of that world involves the tv, so I know what's happening, and I know that the Gamemakers are going to make something happen. And they do, something that brings me back from my little dream world.

An earthquake rolls through the arena, causing rockslides, opening huge cracks in the ground, and shocking most of the tributes. Annie doesn't notice, but that doesn't matter. Because more than anything else, the earthquake opens this huge whole in the rock that was keeping the river out of the main part of the arena. This sends a torrent of water that buries the entire savanna under at least eight feet of water. Since there's no hills, nothing except for the small mountain range that's only housing two tributes other than Annie, there's no place to escape too. Most of the scarce trees have burnt down, and nothing else is above water level except for a couple pieces of floating debris.

Now, I'm really watching again. I'm sure that Annie can win, since she's in a safe place. Until the Gamemakers decide that Annie and the other tribute in the mountains have an unfair advantage. The bats chase the other tribute out of her cave, but Annie doesn't seem to notice. For a second, I'm terrified that the Gamemakers will just kill her, but instead, they do something that I've never seen before. A mutt that looks exactly like her sister hurries to her place in the cave, then convinces her to follow. Annie is so far gone that she doesn't even remember that she died four years ago. And that mutt leads Annie right off the edge of that mountain.

Of course, it's not that high, and she lands in the water, but there's no easy way for her to get back up. Annie isn't in the best of shape anyway, so I don't think she could do it. That doesn't matter, though, because Annie is different once she's in the water. I'm not talking about an amazing transformation, she doesn't get her brain back at all. But she does start moving.

She still doesn't realize she's in the Games, that's obvious, but she isn't just a sitting duck. Instead, she starts gliding through the water like a mermaid, acting like there isn't a person in the world to see her. She has to be starving, and I know she's not in the right kind of mind to get food, but I'm not that worried. Since the flood, tributes are dropping fast.

One died from a rockslide the earthquake caused. Another three have drowned. Five left. The sun sets, but only Annie sleeps. She has that floating on her back thing down. The other tributes have no place to go, and they're getting tired. The next day, another one drowns. A couple of them find each other that night, and a somewhat pathetic battle ensues. Knives are awkwardly stabbed at each other, blood dyes the water, and the tributes end up killing each other. One of them escapes the initial fight, but his injuries are so bad that he drowns just an hour later.

That leaves two. Annie does flips and hums to herself, putting her hands over her ears like she's trying as hard as she can to go to her happy place. The other tribute, a fierce looking girl from one, is searching fiercely for Annie, but even though she's strong, she's a slow swimmer and doesn't cover much ground.

Annie keeps up her mermaid act, even though she's now horribly pale and skinny, and I know that she'll die of starvation if she keeps going like she is. She's drinking the water, which probably isn't healthy, but it isn't salt water and it's better than nothing. That'll keep her going a while, I hope.

Except maybe a while is too long. The next day, nothing happens, and I wonder if the Gamemakers would allow Annie to just starve to death.

That's when I notice the girl from One getting way too close. Later that night, she finds Annie. Annie, who's completely lost it, sees her just in time, but just stares at her. Then, miracle of miracles, she darts under the water and gets away from her. A short chase ensues, but I don't have a doubt that Annie's going to get away, she's just too fast. After that, the Gamemakers then lose their patience. They throw these huge, fierce looking fish in the water. Annie gets away, let's say that the other girl doesn't. I watch in shock, anxiety, and joy as the trumpets blare and Annie is lifting from the arena. Eliza hugs me, and I breathe for the first time in over a week. Annie is coming home.


	11. When You Lose Your Mind

Sorry for the horribly infrequent updates, but I've just been so busy since school started, and it's like whenever I think I have time, something else just comes up. So, unfortunately I've resorted to updating when convenient. Thanks to anyone still sticking with the story this long, and I hope you'll continue to read it.

The first time that I know something isn't right is when they announce that the interview and recap will be pushed back so that the tribute will have time to recover. Annie didn't have bad injuries, none that would take two weeks to heal, but that's how long it took before they finally did the closing ceremonies.

During the recap, my unease grew as I watched Annie fidget back and forth, her eyes darting nervously side to side. Her eyes are still intelligent, but the only emotion that they show is fear. And I'm not sure, but I'm pretty positive that there was no Peacekeeper sitting right behind my throne. Even President Snow seems nervous, his eyes constantly flitting towards Annie.

"What's wrong with her?" Eliza asks me. I squeeze my eyes shut, not willing to say a word. I don't know what's wrong. I just know that I want to be there, that I want nothing more than to just hold her, to help her.

"She's going crazy," Rafe says, and even though he seems concerned, his words seem so callous to me. The knife in my pocket is suddenly in my hand, the cool blade touching Rafe's neck just an instant later. Eliza, who I didn't even pay attention to, knocks it out of my hand and across the room, but I don't pay attention.

"She's not crazy," I urge. "She isn't."

"Right, I know. Just a figure of speech," Rafe says hastily, but I'm not stupid, and I know that he meant what he said. It becomes even more painfully obvious when they show a replay of Altos getting beheaded. She buries her face in her hands and starts shaking back and forth, hugging herself tightly. They get her off screen quickly, but not before I notice the guard whisper something in her ear that makes her face twist in fear.

Anger bubbles up in my chest, and my vision seems to turn red. That isn't Annie. I knew Snow had it in him to do this, but for some reason I never thought he would. He can't possibly have a heart, not when can look someone as truly good as Annie in the eye, then not give a crap about her life, not care when he does to her piece of mind. But this isn't news. I've always known he was heartless. I guess it's just never quite dawned on me, not until this morning. Even when he turned me into a prostitute, my opinion of him wasn't quite this low.

I don't bother to watch the rest of the recap. Annie won't die there, and I can't stand looking at her another second. It's too miserable. I don't care if it's "required tv", I just leave the room. Later, I'd worry that Snow saw me leave and would punish someone for it, but at the time all I cared about was getting out of there.

That mindset didn't last much longer, though. I was back in front of the tv for her interview. Instead of letting my eyes eat up her smiles and take in every inch of her like I wanted to, I found myself studying her. Looking at the way she was never really still, or noticing how her voice was higher than it used to be, almost like she was on the edge of hysteria. Her eyes never settled in one place at once, and at random times, she'd squeeze them shut, just for a second. I'm guessing that it would've been longer if there weren't Peacekeepers motivating her, which I'm sure there were.

"She's talking fine," Eliza says encouragingly. I shoot her a venomous glare.

"There's no reason she shouldn't be." But my voice is so week that there's no way that she buys into my act of confidence.

The interviews that year are shorter, too. I'm sure that they end it early because Annie starts getting fidgety. She's on the verge of a breakdown, and it just about breaks my heart right there. Of course, there's still some small part of me that hopes she'll be fine when she gets home, when she sees me.

That hope disintegrates two days later, when Annie comes off the train. She's followed by a man dressed in white, and her eyes never leave the ground. I take a tentative step towards her, but the man in white holds up a hand. Then he turns to Annie, whispers soft words in her ear, and tightens his grip on her arm.

Annie looks up slowly, her fear filled eyes meeting mine, just for a fraction of a second. I swear, I swear to God, that there's a little of the old Annie there, just for a second, but then it's replaced by something else, something that makes me want to throw up. Distrust. Fear. Everything that shouldn't be there.

"Where are they?" she asks, her voice rising in pitch at the end. It's the same thing the people of the Capitol do, but instead of something to made fun of, when she does it, it sounds like her voice is on the verge of breaking.

"Annie?" I ask softly, not knowing what she's talking about. I should be thrilled to see her again, but every muscle in my body is tensed, just waiting for her to break.

"They're coming," she says urgently, her eyes searching for the tributes that she's so sure are coming for her. I remember that feeling. But I know that what's wrong with her is so much worse. I had control, at least enough that I didn't break down in front of people, enough that the only accident was the one time that I stabbed Annie. Right now, though, Annie looks like she'd go on an all out rampage if she was released. Or maybe she'd just run. I guess I don't know.

"You're safe Annie," I whisper to her. "No one's going to hurt you."

"You don't know," she says in a soft, but unstable voice. "You have no idea."

"I do. And I know you're going to be safe." She shakes her head furiously, so I try a different approach. "Do you know who I am?" I ask.

She stares at me, and I know she heard the question, but she doesn't answer for a very long time. The man in white looks at her carefully, while Annie's friends and family that have assembled in the square just start nervously.

"Why did you leave me?" she asks. The question hurts, because I did, I let her go off to the Capitol alone. But it doesn't hit me as hard as it would have if she had any idea what she was asking. She didn't, though, I could tell by the wrong note in her voice, the shifting of her eyes.

"I'm here now," I tell her softly, taking another small step closer. "I won't leave you again." She makes eye contact with me for just a second, then turns to the man in white.

"Too many," she says. Then the man grabs her arm, hastily apologizes to the huge crowd, and tows her away. I stand there, stunned and speechless, with my heart thumping away in my chest. By the reaction of everyone else, the feeling is mutual. I don't think this has ever happened before, and all I can think is, "Why Annie?"

The next two days drag by impossibly slowly. I spend every second I can at Annie's house, talking to her, cooking for her, cleaning everything. It's easier now, because her entire family has moved to Victor's Village, so I've even gotten in the habit of sleeping in one of the extra bedrooms.

None of it helps, though. All it does is hurt me. So, that second day, I just have to get out. I can't stand being at Annie's anymore. But the thing is, that when I leave, she stays with me. Her old smiles, the way she'd look at me before the Games, and how much all of that has changed. And it becomes too much. I have to forget, I just have to. If it would've been an option, I would've poured bleach in my brain to get those damn pictures out. Instead, I do something worse.

My entire body is in autopilot. I know for a fact that if I would've been thinking clearly, I never would've done anything close to what I did. But I wasn't. I was running on zero sleep, and my entire brain was just messed up.

So, when I'm done at Annie's house, I don't go home. I stumbled over to Eliza's, like I'm drunk. As soon as she answers the door, without any thinking at all, I throw myself at her, start trying to kiss her. Because all I want to do is escape. She pushes me away, she tries to push me away, but in pin her against the wall, and I don't let her go.

"Finnick, what the hell?" she asks when I pull back.

"You're really pretty," I say, then I try to kiss her again. She's prettier than Annie, I just notice that. Annie, without the spark in her eyes, without her normal smile, isn't that special at all. Right now, Eliza just looks crazy beautiful, with her hair all messed up, and that pissed off look on her face.

"Are you drunk?" she snaps at me. I laugh, even though it's not that funny.

"Nah, totally sober." That's actually a lie. I may not have had anything to drink, but no one would describe me as sober.

"Finnick, you need to go get some rest."

"I can't," I plead. "Nightmares. I don't want to rest, I want to forget." Then I lean in again.

"This isn't right," she mumbles, trying to push me off again. But I'm not exactly small, and she can't be much more than 120, so it's really no use. It doesn't matter, anyway, because I feel her give in just seconds later. I'm not sure if she gets tired, or if it's that effect I seem to have on every girl I meet, but she melts into my arms in what seems like no time at all.

"Finnick," she protests one more time, breathlessly.

"Just one night," I whisper, nibbling on her year.

"The Capitol did….," she starts, but I cut her last protest off with a kiss. Without taking my lips off hers, I lead her over to the coach, and then it's like she's just another one of the women of the Capitol. Well, I shouldn't say that. I know Eliza, and I know that she's a good person, and that she's not just beautiful on the outside, and maybe that's why it feels so much better. Maybe it's why she actually does make me forget.

And maybe that's why I don't leave when we're done. Maybe that's why I fall asleep with her in my arms, thinking that it actually feels really nice.

Yet, all of those nice feelings leave the next morning, when I wake up with this girl in my arms, her head on my chest, and it isn't Annie. It takes everything that I have not to just get up and run away. But it's Eliza, and she requires some kind of explanation, something.

I gently, nervously shake her awake. She blinks twice, then really sees me. Her eyes get huge before she seems to remember what happened.

"I-," she says, then lets her voice trail off.

"I'm sorry," I say, quickly filling the awkward silence.

"It's my fault, I shouldn't have-"

"No, you didn't want to."

"But-"

"If I leave now, we can just forget this ever happened?"

"Yes," she says quickly. Then I leave, with one last glance in her direction. She really is pretty.

And as soon as she's out of my site, I break down. Whatever guilt that you've ever felt, I swear to the Lord that it cannot be anywhere close to what I felt. It suffocated me, tore down my thoughts, stopped my breathing, and crushed my heart. I was literally gasping for breath, staring into space, willing it all away.

And I'm not talking about Annie. I'm talking about last night. Because there's no way, no way I should've ditched her like that. It wasn't worth it. Not at all. I love Annie, I know that I do, and I shouldn't be able to do something like that to someone I love, which makes the whole thing so much worse. I do love Annie, right?

Of course I do. I do, seriously. It's just… just…. Just that I turned my back on her when she needed me the most, and I shouldn't have even thought about doing that, no matter what happened to her. I should be there, right now, holding her hand, but I can't bring myself to go to her house. Not after what I did. She'll know. She may have lost her mind, but she'd know that. Then, instead of being indifferent, she'd hate me.

Worry eats away at my gut that entire day. Rafe knocks on my door, begging me to come out, for about twenty minutes, until he must figure I'm not home and runs away. That doesn't last long, though. He comes back, then starts yelling again. This time, he knows what's happened. I know this, because he comes out screaming, "I don't give a shit that you fucked Eliza. Annie needs you." Yeah, thanks Rafe. Way to soften the blow.

"If I let you in, will you shoot me?" I ask.

"Finnick," he pleads. I get up. I open the door. He punches me in the face.

"What was that for?" I ask, staggering backwards.

"What is wrong with you?" he snaps.

"Everything," I answer simply.

"Yeah, I figured that," he says. Then he softens just a bit, and puts a hand on my shoulder. "Everyone makes mistakes. Now just pull yourself together so we can go see Annie." I take a deep breath, then let him lead me out the door. My brain is so fried that I figure it'll be fine to let someone else make the decisions for a while.


	12. When There's No Hope Left

A/N- Okay, two in a row. It's a miracle. As always, thank you for following and I appreciate all reviews. Thanks.

Finnick 19 Annie 16

You know, most people wouldn't be able to do much thinking in just a minute long walk, especially someone like me, who has a problem thinking about anything. But in that short walk to Annie's house, with Rafe towing me along, my thoughts kicked into overdrive, maybe making up for my stupid move last night.

The first thought that runs through my head is my parents. They don't talk to me anymore. We kept in a little bit of contact after the Games, but my dad had his job, and my mother wasn't happy with my depressive attitude. So, other than the occasional visit, or maybe a phone call once a month, I didn't see them, or Daisy. Well, then came that letter from Snow, along with my first visit to the Capitol. My parents have high moral standards, which is a big part of the reason that I didn't have a real girlfriend before the Games. They're extremely religious, and as soon as they heard about what I was doing in the Capitol, all contact we had was severed. They wouldn't let me near Daisy anymore, probably because they don't want me to pollute her mind.

But the thing is, I never really cared. Part of it was because it's not like we were some tight knit family in the first place. I mean, I was my dad's employee for crying out loud, not his son. But more than that, I knew that I wasn't really doing anything wrong, nothing that I could help. So, because I knew that I couldn't tell them, I was content to just let them think what they wanted, because it wasn't true.

Now, though, it's different. Annie, the girl I'm supposed to love, is basically sick. So, after waiting two days for her to get better, I get impatient and go force one of my friends to sleep with me. That, no matter how you look at it, is low. It's probably beneath most the people in the Capitol. President Snow is probably going to find out in that way he does, and just have a heyday with it, so proud of himself that he turned me into another freak from the Capitol. That's what Eliza was saying last night when I made her shut up, I'm positive of it. That the Capitol did this to me.

I can't make that excuse, though. I had the easiest Games anyone has ever seen. I never even got touched. Yet, I'm taking it worse than anyone. Maybe it's because it started when I was just fourteen. Or maybe it's because I've really been dealing with it my whole life. Or maybe, most likely, it's because I've had more pressure on my back than anyone. I'm the perfect one. The confident kid with the smile that breaks hearts. The guy with the eyes the color of the ocean, and the shaggy copper hair that glistens in the sun. I'm charismatic, I can make people trust me, like me, even when I'm such a mess of a person. And that's why I think this is so hard. I have to keep that façade up 24/7, I have to make people believe that I'm perfect. And if I fail, even for a second, Snow is going to kill everything that really matters to me.

So these are my happy thoughts as Rafe and I walk across Victor's Village. My mind is still buzzing, worrying, wondering when we get to Annie's house, but it slows down considerably.

"You okay?" Rafe asks.

"No."

"She's not going to know."

"I'm an asshole, Rafe. You should've shot me."

"You aren't-"

"Try and tell me that I'm not, and I'll slit your throat right now." For added emphasis, I take the knife out and hold it up. Hey, it wouldn't be beneath me. I've flirted with girls before I've killed them. I've slept with basically every girl I've met other than my girlfriend, if Annie is still my girlfriend, and all I do during my free time is dream about killing people. I even go to a nice little group where we devise how to start what could probably be considered the deadliest war in history. So really, killing my best friend would be nothing.

"You'd do it too, wouldn't you?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, then you're an asshole. You're a cheating asshole who's lost his mind, and who should probably be locked up in some kind of mental hospital." I crack a messed up smile, just because it's such a relief that someone finally has it right.

"Wow, way to prove my point," he says with a grimace, then looks at the door.

"This is gonna be brutal," I say. He snorts.

"Just be patient. It's going to take time for her to recover."

"Shit, you should've been hear to tell me that last night."

"Dude, you have a brain. Use it." I think about telling him about how it only works half of the time, and the other half I just sort of roll with what my body tells me to do, but that sounds really sad, and he probably would lock me up if I mentioned that. So, instead I grab the doorknob.

"I'll think about that next time." Then I open the door and step inside. Annie is sitting on the couch, her mother in a chair across from her, watching a recap of my Games. I look at Rafe with pleading eyes. Just my luck. Next, Eliza's will probably flash on too.

"Hello Finnick, Rafe," the man in white, her doctor, says. I never bothered with his name, so I just called him Doctor all the time.

"Hey," Rafe says.

"Should she be watching that?" I ask, not bothering with a greeting.

"She's been watching that all night, over and over again. I think it's a sign that she remembers your connection." I try to be happy, but all I can think about is what I was doing last night. Here she was, just totally doing the perfect thing, the thing that has me on the brink of tears, and I'm cheating on her.

"Well, I guess we could watch with her," Rafe says, with a quick glance at me. I shrug. I see those scenes every night. Seeing it on tv isn't going to be different.

"What's up Annie?" I ask when I gently sit down beside her. Her big, fear filled eyes meet mine, and I get this really bad sick feeling in my gut. What did I do? God, what am I?

"You did that," she says, with a quick nod at the tv. I cringe. Way to make progress.

"Yes. Years ago."

"Oh." Then she goes back to watching the tv. I set my hand on hers, making little circles on her palm, trying not to focus on the screen while also attempting to keep my thoughts from running wild. I manage to maintain a fine line of balance that mostly involves focusing on the circles I'm making, until Rafe taps my shoulder. I look up and he jerks his thumb to the doorway, where Eliza's standing shyly, almost like she's intruding. It's my fault that she's nervous. All my fault.

"I don't want to talk to her," I hiss at Rafe.

"Just go," he says. So I do. I get up slowly, then walk over to the door, as nervous as Eliza looks.

"What's up?" I ask her, not looking her directly in the eye.

"Can we talk?" she asks. Great. Now she wants to talk. I'm not in the mood to talk. I don't know what I'd say. But I can't so no, not after what I did to her.

"Fine. We can talk." We don't talk, though, not for a long time. We walk along the shoreline, listening to the waves crash against the sand, tasting the salt in the air. But not a word comes of our mouths. Not for at least a mile. Then I can't stand it anymore. I step in front of her, cutting her off.

"You wanted to talk," I remind her. She shrugs, and I can tell she has no idea what to say, so I start. "I do love Annie, you know that, right? I mean, I messed up. Badly."

"You aren't a bad person," she says, her eyes trained on the sand. I laugh.

"Why does everyone say that? What more do I have to do to convince them that I've really screwed up. My entire life is a mess, and it's all my fault. I've done everything wrong and nothing right, and there's no excuses. Not the Capitol's, not the hand I've been dealt, or anything like that. It's my fault. My decisions. What I've done." She shakes her head.

"You've got your whole life ahead of you to figure it out. Just because everything is messed up now doesn't mean you don't have time to fix it."

"Eliza, since my Games, I've had five years to fix everything, but it just keeps getting worse. Maybe I should kill myself now before I go ask Snow if he needs help screwing over the Districts."

"Don't talk like that."

"Why not? Why shouldn't I just end my life right now? Give me one good reason." And now that I'm talking about it, the idea starts revolving around in my head. No more pain. No more fears.

"Annie." I close my eyes, then take a deep breath.

"I don't deserve her. She'd be better off without me."

"You're full of crap."

"Why? Everything I say is true." And for once, she has nothing to say.

"I-, I-"

"I think we're done talking," I tell her. Then I take off sprinting towards Victor's Village. Not for Annie's house, but for mine. I can't take this anymore. I just can't.

As soon as I'm inside, I take my knife out of my pocket. I lift it to my throat. One slash. My final victim. But no. I can't. I don't have the guts. Maybe I don't want to take another life, even if it is a pathetic one. I don't know. But I can't. Instead, I collapse on the kitchen floor and curl into a ball.

It takes a long time for the tears to come. First, I just sob. Swallow. Sob. It makes me sick, like I have to throw up. I don't, though. I haven't been eating enough for that. Instead, my sobs just get more frequent, louder. Then, probably hours later, my eyes well up with tears that soon start running down my cheeks.

It must be a sight. The man who'd once been like a god in the Capitol, laying there in a little ball. I haven't eaten in weeks, my skin is pale, and my tear-filled eyes are lined with dark shadows. My once beautiful hair is dry and messy, and the smiles that used to break hearts have ceased to exist. Then I wonder what the ladies are going to think of this on my next visit to the Capitol, and I lose it. Hysterical laughter mixes with my sobs and crying, and I sound like some kind of drunk hyena. But I can't stop, so I just keep on going, unable to do anything else.

That's when I grab the knife again, when I lift it, get ready to plunge it into my heart. Because that's when it becomes painfully obvious that there's no way I can keep living, even if my heart keeps pumping. It's also when a hand reaches out and yanks the knife away from my grasp, and I realize that Mags has been there the whole time, watching the whole thing. The saddest part is the I don't even care. I guess that's no surprise. I mean, when life becomes a living hell, when every second does nothing but tear you apart even more, you have two options. One is to just end it, which is the easy, pain free way. The other is to just stop caring. And since I no longer have that damn knife, it looks like I'm gonna have to go with option B.


	13. A Ray of Hope

A/N- Thanks for reading, I'm glad that you've stuck with my stories this long. I appreciate any feedback. Thank you.

* * *

"Finnick-," she says, about to launch into a huge lecture.

"What?" I snap before she says anything else. "What is the problem with killing myself? It'll just be better for everyone."

"You're the only one who thinks that."

"Seriously? You don't know me anymore, Mags. I'm not what you think."

"You're a living person, and every person deserves to live."

"President Snow?" I ask dryly. Mags waves it off easily.

"He isn't a true human being."

"I'm not much better." She shakes her head, then lowers herself into a chair beside me.

"Do you send innocent children into an arena to die for your entertainment?"

"It's pretty good tv," is my response. I don't want anyone defending me. I want someone to take that damn knife and plunge it into my heart for me.

"Finnick, you need help."

"It's too late for that," I say, burying my face in my hands. There's nothing that can help me. The fire that started burning me away five years ago has finally finished the job. I'm nothing but a pile of ashes, and you can't rebuild a house after it's burned to the ground.

"When the Lord is going to do something great, he begins with an improbability. When he's going to perform a miracle, he begins with an impossibility."

"Shit Mags, don't you think that if there was a "Lord", the Games would've ended a long time ago?" Hell, if there was a God, my life would've ended a long time ago. I'm basically the devil incarnate.

"Everyone needs something to believe in Finnick. I think that's your problem. The only thing you truly believe in is that no one can attain true happiness."

"You've got it all wrong. I don't believe that no one can attain true happiness. I just believe that it's never going to be me or anyone that ever comes into contact with me."

"It's President Snow. Not you."

"That should be my new motto. I go and blow up a building, but when the Peacekeepers come, I'll just tell them that it isn't my fault. President Snow made me do it." That's when she slaps me across the face. Hard. I stare at her, slowly brining my hand up to touch the place where she'd hit me.

"Listen," she shouts, right in my face. I shut up immediately. "Annie will get better, those things do eventually heal. But you have to help her, to be patient. Okay?"

"It isn't just Annie," I mumble.

"The Games? You've dealt with that before. When you and Annie were really close, you were happy."

"Then Snow made me his bitch. Do you want me to tell him to fuck off or something? Because I really cannot be happy if I'm subjected to that."

"Sometimes you have to look past imperfections."

"Imperfection? That's a nice euphemism. But whatever. Maybe I can look beyond the imperfections, maybe I can help Annie recover, then live a halfway decent sort of life, but do you ever think I can really be happy?" I'm like a burn victim. I may live, but I'll always have the scars to remind me of just what I've been through.

"Just be patient, Finnick. Your time will come."

"My time was those four days before the Games started, when I managed to captivate the entire nation. It has come. Now it's gone. End of story."

"If you can hold onto hope, you're story has a lot more chapters left. Give Annie time, and she will heal." Then she starts walking away.

"I want my knife back," I snap. And I guess she realizes that I have enough to think about not to kill myself, because she tosses it over her shoulder. It lands in front of me with a loud clang. I grab it, then delicately trace the blade with my fingers. It seems like it'd be fun to stab through skin. Suddenly, my blood just seems to be begging for a release. I decide to think about what Mags said later. For the time being, I cut narrow slits on the tops of all my fingers, letting the blood flow freely. The pain feels good, but the best feeling is the warm blood running across my skin. I fall asleep right there on the floor, wondering if I'll wake up in a pool of blood.

There is no pool, though. Hardly any blood, really. The cuts weren't deep. They hurt like hell, though, and I start regretting my decision. A new experience for me, I know, but I think I handle it well enough.

Really, I do handle it better than my other problems. I shower, being very careful with my fingers, then smother them in medicine and bandage them all up. After that, I head over to Annie's. It's not like I have anything else to do, and Mags' words are echoing through my head. Maybe that's all I need, to give her more time.

Her mother answers the door, dark circles under her eyes. They're almost as big as mine.

"Hello Finnick," she says softly, then moves to let me in. I start to walk past her, then turn at the last second to give her a quick hug.

"I'm sorry," I say. She just manages a week smile, then shuffles back to the kitchen. Annie pokes her head out of a bedroom a minute later, her eyes wide and her hair wild.

"Finnick," she says. There's dull recognition, but also wariness.

"What's up?" I ask her. She blinks, then slowly makes her way out of her bedroom.

"Are they here?" she asks. I actually smile in shock. She's decided to include me in her little crazy world. Maybe it's a good thing I didn't kill myself.

"Just me Annie." She looks skeptical. "I'm sure. I wouldn't lie to you, would I?"

"I don't trust anyone," she says. And even though it hurts, I put a hand on her shoulder.

"Smart." Then I lead her to the living room. She plops down on the couch, and I sit beside her. Like always, she flips on the tv, not caring that it's another rerun of the Games. This one isn't bad, though. It's some girl named Cecelia's. I know Mags has talked about her, but I don't know her, so I can manage to watch the whole thing in a kind of detached way. Annie gets real into it, though, cheering and everything. I actually take her hand when she gets too excited, and she doesn't let go. Actually, it's even better than that.

"What'd you do?" she asks, holding up my hand.

"Got cut," I answer. It doesn't matter that I did the cutting.

"Did _they _do it?" she asks. Then she looks up at me with those big green eyes, and I realize that I can't lie to her.

"I did." Her eyes grow wider, and she lifts my hand up to her face, like she wants a closer look. I actually blush, because Annie is the only person who can embarrass me anymore. Even when she isn't all there, admitting how messed up I really am is extremely difficult.

"Why?" she asks softly.

"Sometimes feeling pain is better than dealing with what's really going on." I'm sure it's not smart to tell an unstable person something like that, but I do anyway. I need to tell someone, and it's always been Annie that I've told. This is different, I don't think she even cares, but it's still Annie.

"Oh," she says quietly, then goes back to watching the Games, still holding onto my hand. I lean my head back against the couch and just watch her. She looks younger, a lot younger than before. That's weird. When I got back from my Games, I looked years older than I had before. Maybe it's because of what's going on in her head. I guess I'm not sure, but she just seems so tiny, so delicate, like a little child. I know that if I looked into her eyes again, if I saw the unnatural fear there, that any sign of youth would go away. That's why I don't. Seeing her look like a kid again brings back so many memories.

Tears flood my eyes when I think of the first time I met her, of pacing back and forth in front of that old wooden house, working up the courage to go in. As soon as she saw me, her eyes flared with distrust. But I made her trust me, I made her see that I wasn't the person I seemed to be in the Games. In all honesty, I probably lied to her. Now, I'm pretty sure that the Games didn't turn me into something that I wasn't. Instead, they just brought out my true nature. Now, she's all caught up with me, when really she shouldn't be. I should try to set her up with Rafe or someone like that. Someone normal.

But as soon as I think it, I know that it isn't even a possibility. No matter what I did to Annie, no matter what I will do to her, I'm selfish enough to know that there's no way I can make myself let her go. No matter how much better than me she is, I'm going to force her to stoop to my level until she realizes just how much better the rest of the world is than me. And as soon as she does, I truly will lose any reason to live. Annie may still be here now, with a small piece of hope left, but as soon as she's gone, I will be too.

"Do you remember anything before the Games?" I ask Annie. She looks up at me.

"There is no "before"," she says wistfully. Which, at the time, I take to mean that she doesn't.

"So you don't know anything about me?"

"You're Finnick Odair," she says. I try not to let myself get frustrated.

"Anything else?" She starts looking troubled, so I quickly change my question. "What about your sister? Do you remember your sister?" Her eyes raise up to meet mine, and I can see tears getting ready to fall.

"I don't have a sister," she says. I put my hands on her shoulders.

"Arowana. She was tall and blonde, and she cared more about you than anything else."

"The girl in your Games," Annie says quietly. I nod.

"The girl in my Games."

"Did you love her?" I close my eyes, then take a deep breath. I didn't think I loved her, not then, but right now, I would die if I could just talk to her for five minutes. She would beat the hell out of me if I told her what I did to Annie, what I've become. I desperately need that.

"Yeah, I guess I did."

"They got her." I just nod. Then Annie puts her hands over her ears and starts shaking her head, like she's trying to drown out some kind of horrible noise. I grab her hands, then slowly bring them down to her side, murmuring to her that nothing will hurt her. Eventually, she stops shaking and her face relaxes.

"They'll get us all," she warns me, then she walks off to her bedroom, leaving me on the couch, wondering what's going to come next.

"Are you okay, Finnick?" Annie's mom asks from behind me. I jump, my hand flying to the pocket where I keep my knife. Then I stop myself, gather my bearings, and turn around.

"Yeah, totally fine." Not everyone needs to know about my problems.

"You look sick."

"Just worried." Then she gives me a somewhat awkward hug, mostly because I'm not a huge fan of human contact (yeah, hard to believe, I know).

"She's getting better, and it's only been a few days. I remember what you were like when you got home from the Games, and you got better." I smile, hopefully convincingly.

"Yeah, and Annie will do the same." Then I leave as quickly as possible, the tears flowing down my cheeks before I'm all the way out the door. Because I know that I never got better. Truthfully, it only gets worse.


	14. An Angel From the Past

A/N- Okay, I was just rereading Fishing For People, and I started missing Arowana, so I gave her a small role in this chapter. I hope it turned out okay. As always, thanx for reading, and I hope you enjoy the story. Thanx.

* * *

I'm pretty sure that it was talking about Arowana with Annie, even just those couple sentences, but that night, I can't sleep at all. It isn't even the usual self-loathing that kept me awake. It was a kind of sadness that had nothing to do with myself, but that creeped through my entire body, hurting me worse than any weapons could have.

I know, I'm positive, that if Arowana would have come back from the Games, that Annie wouldn't have been subjected to go. Not only that, but she wouldn't have messed everything up. I remember her, leaning against the cave wall, confessing that she didn't think she could kill anyone else, that she didn't want to turn into something she wasn't. She deserved to come back. I should've gave my life to get her back, because right now, I have this horrible feeling that I really, really need to see her again.

I hadn't thought about her, not really, for at least three years, so at first I think it'll just go away. But it doesn't. Three years can change everything. You can be forced to become a prostitute, you could have to watch your girlfriend fight to the death, and then you could have to fight through the fallout when she comes back. In three years.

That's probably why I stopped thinking about her. I was going through too much to contemplate anything else. But now, my brain rakes through every memory of her, desperately trying to bring back the images I'd pushed to the back of my mind.

It's scary when I realize all of the things that I can't remember. It's worse because the things that escape me are mostly good things. I can't remember what her smile looked like. I can't even remember if she ever did smile. I only knew her during what would've been the worst time of her life. I can't remember any details about what she looked like either, other than her eyes.

I do remember the bad things, though. The things that are seared in my memory, branded into my brain never to be removed. The worst, obviously, being every detail of her death. I remember catching a glimpse of the boy before he saw us. I remember opening my mouth to warn her, remember raising my spear to hit him. And I remember being a split second too late. The words dying in my throat as the knife left his hand, the spear reaching him just moments later. I remember her collapsing onto the ground, then rushing to her side. Her skin was ghostly pale, and I was panicking, wishing someone would send a damn parachute. They didn't, and she died in my arms, her last words a plea to help out her family, her little sister.

My heart starts throbbing in my chest, and I know that I need to get my mind off of that. Instead, I think of the only time we kissed. It wasn't real, not really. She'd pissed me off, maybe said something about my sister, but I jumped at her with a knife. That's when I realized I couldn't kill her, not then. I probably wouldn't have been able to anyway, if I would've had the chance to see. But that time, I lowered the knife, and kissed her instead. She didn't kiss me back. She jumped away and bitched me out for being a loser.

I sigh, getting this really dull ache in my chest. I love Annie, I do, but Arowana was different. Maybe it's because we were thrown together into the worst circumstances possible, that we went through all that together, that we trusted each other with our lives. Or maybe it's because Annie fell for me like every other girl. I know that it means more to her, that it's real, but I had to work so hard for Arowana.

If she was still alive, who would I have chosen?

Just knowing that I have to ask that kills me. What happened to this unconditional, unyielding love stuff that you always hear about. It isn't like that, not for me anyway. All it is right now is hurt and confusion and doubt. I love Annie. I think I loved Arowana. Now, with Annie here, my mind is trained on Arowana. Why? Like I said before, it's been years since I thought of her. She died five years ago, after I'd known her for less than a month.

But maybe that's why I want to see her so badly. I never got a chance to know her. There's so much that could've been and nothing that was. Sure, we fought a ton, but there was nothing horrible, not like Annie and me. So maybe since there's all this possibility that it could've been perfect, that I'm just wishing for it now, when so much is going on with me and Annie.

I guess it isn't a big deal why I'm trying to make myself even more depressed, the fact is that I am, and I need to stop. So I do the one thing that I can to take my mind off of Arowana. I go find Annie. The girl who's alive. Well, mostly.

I go for sneaking into her bedroom, since I don't want to wake up her mom. Again, not the smartest approach to take with a girl who's paranoid that people are coming to get her, but I go for it.

My first instinct is to throw pebbles or something, but then she might freak out and yell for her parents, so I decide just to climb in. The room is on the first story, which is a plus. A negative is the fact that it's locked, but that's only a temporary obstacle. I have experience with things like that, so I get it open easily.

Even though I'm silent, she starts stirring as I'm crawling through the window. I hurry through, getting over to her bed just as her eyes open in horror. She starts to scream, but I cover her mouth.

"It's me," I hiss. She doesn't calm down. "Finnick Odair? The guy who's spent the last few days with you?" Her body relaxes.

"Are you here to protect me?" she whispers.

"Nah, I want you to protect me."

"Me?"

"Yeah, you."

"I can't pro-"

"Annie," I interrupt. "Just be here, and you'll do fine."

"What am I protecting you from?" I smile.

"The past."

"How can that hurt you?"

"You're asking me?" I wonder if that's mean, or offensive or something. I wonder if she knows there's something wrong with her.

"Block it out," she says softly, "and it won't touch you." I sigh.

"What if there are some things back there you want to remember?"

"Like what?"

"I don't want to forget you." Everything else, however is a different story…. Or maybe not. I don't want to forget Arowana. Even though it hurts to think of her, I owe her too much to forget about her. Without her, I wouldn't have Annie, even though I've now gotten to the point where I'm debating who I should choose, like Arowana is an actual choice. That's actually creepy. If I lived in the Capitol and could get one of those doctors that check out your brain, I wonder what exactly he'd say about that. Hell, about anything I think. I'd probably drive him crazy just trying to figure it out.

"You shouldn't want that. They're coming for me, and if you're near, they'll get you too."

"Nah, if I'm near, I'll protect you."

"Sometimes, things can't be stopped." Then she does that thing again, where she gets panicky and sort of has an episode, talking to herself, her eyes looking everywhere.

"Calm down Annie, I'm here," I say.

"They're coming," is her only response. I calm her down, but by then she's done talking, so we just sit there in silence. Eventually, she falls asleep, but I stay. I lay down beside her and put my arm around her, then rest my head on the pillow, meaning to sit up and watch her. Instead, I end up falling asleep like that. My last thought as I drift off is that I'd take this, falling asleep with Annie in my arms, over sleeping with any other girl, no matter how beautiful they are.

Annie wakes me up early the next morning, luckily gently. I have expected her to freak out, but she doesn't.

"You stayed," she says. She doesn't sound thrilled, or mad. It sounds more like an observation than anything.

"Yeah, I did. I need you to protect me, remember?"

"And did I?" For the first time, I realize that I didn't have a single nightmare.

"Yeah, you actually did." I run a hand through my messy hair, then prop myself up on my elbow. "Thanks." The corners of her lips turn up, just slightly. Not a real smile, not by a long shot, but it makes me feel better.

"I don't know how I could have helped. I didn't do anything." I take her hand, glad when she doesn't jerk back. Usually, she has to be the one to touch me, or else she'll freak out. She's been better, but this feels different, more like when I used to hold her hand.

"All you had to do was be here."

"You shouldn't think like that. If you're by me, they'll hurt you."

"I have to stay by you, then, to protect you." She just smiles sadly and shakes her head, and I want to scream in frustration. She starts acting normal, then she'll talk about "them".

"You can't protect me from them. They'll just take you too."

"Who are they?" She cringes.

"The people." Then she gets up and starts pacing around her room, her eyes darting everywhere.

"Are you going to be okay?" I ask.

"They're going to get me, to get us."

"I'm here, don't worry." I can see tears starting to form in her eyes.

"Why won't they go away?" she shrieks. I back up, then climb into the windowsill. She whirls around. "You said you'd protect me."

"If your parents hear you, they'll kill me," I hiss. She's getting too loud. Sure, I feel guilty interrupting her tirade, telling her she's noisy, but I don't know what else to say. I'm not trained in dealing with people like this. I don't think my answer makes much of a difference anyway, because she goes right back into her episode, stomping her feet, pulling her hair, and screeching. I try to calm her from the windowsill, but it doesn't work very well, especially since I can't talk over her.

Then I hear a knock on the door, and an "Annie, are you okay?" I wave good-bye, even though I'm sure she doesn't see it, then I hop out of the windowsill and jog back to my house. I'll go back in a couple hours to see if she's better. For now, I'm just worried about keeping my mind busy. I want to keep Arowana out of my head, especially since Annie's making progress like she is. I can't let myself fall in love with her dead sister now, or anyone else for that matter. I love Annie, and even though it's hard to see now, when she comes back, I'll be glad I toughed this out.

I remember someone, maybe Mags, telling me that anything that's worth achieving, anything really special, is going to be hard. That's what makes it special, the work. If something is easy, then anyone could do it. So maybe all this stuff I'm working through with Annie, all these difficulties, are really going to make things better in the end, are going to eventually even out into something truly special. I close my eyes and try to picture that, letting the thin ray of hope I had earlier broaden, until I can taste everything I've been dreaming of.

I liked Arowana a lot, and she was special, but she's gone now. Eliza is beautiful, she's smart, and she's one of the few people who can understand me, but we don't love each other, and all those girls in the Capitol are obviously meaningless. Right now, Annie is the one girl that I can see myself with down the road, after everything evens out, after this huge war takes place and President Snow is taken out. Then we'll have this amazing life, then everything we've been through will finally pay off, and I can have a long, happy life with her and only her. Right now, the thought of that is enough to keep me going.

I decide to go to Mags' house, then. And without a word, I stroll in and hug her. She smiles at me, and I have to smile back, just a little. In that moment, with all this new hope shining down on me, and this person who's guided me through so much by my side, I get this tiny little whisper in my brain that says that it truly is a good thing to be alive. The feeling leaves after just a minute, once everything I'm going to face sets in, but then I remember the thought of the future after Snow, and peace washes over me. Maybe I can't be happy now, but I will be. After the War, when Annie and I can finally be together.


	15. Untimely GoodByes

A/N- Thanks for all the feedback, and thank you to anyone who favorited my story. I truly appreciate it that everyone has stuck with my stories this long. As always, any tips are appreciated.

* * *

Okay, you know all that hope that I was feeling? Well, it went away pretty damn quickly. A week after I snuck over to Annie's, I walk into my house and find an envelope. The paper is crisp and white, and it is sealed with blood red wax. My heart basically stops beating, and I sink to my knees, unable to even open the envelope. After everything, after surviving all of that, this happens. I'm only called to the Capitol two or three times a year, yet it has to be now that he sends for me.

What will Annie do when I'm gone? Will something happen, will she block out all of her memories again, forget me? And what about me? I know that no one in their right mind would consider me stable, and this is just going to make it worse. I have to stifle a sob, then I slowly get up and walk over to the table. The letter just sits there, glaring up at me. It seems like it'd be dangerous to touch it, like it's poison. From all the things I've heard about Snow, I wouldn't even doubt it.

I say a quick prayer, then grab it, only touching it with my fingertips. It's never been this hard before, because I've always known I'd make it through, come back home. Now, I have no way to ensure that. All I can do is hope that I can keep my head together long enough to get home.

I slide my finger under the seal, my heartbeat getting faster and faster with each second. A part of me clings to the hope that this isn't what I think it is, even though I know that it can't be true.

The seal breaks. I take the letter out, slowly unfold it. It smells like perfume, like all of his letters do. I know from experience that it's the scent of his roses, though. His office is clogged with the smell, and it clings to everything it touches. I've gotten in the habit of burning my clothes once I get back from the Capitol, because of the way that scent creeps into your head and messes with your mind. It's better to just get rid of it.

I focus on the letter, letting the words appear clearly before my eyes. I groan. I slam my fist on the table. I scream loud enough that it hurts, then I keep on screaming. I scream death threats, things that would get me killed if I wasn't Snow's "special" victor. I curse. I seethe. Then, when I can't scream anymore, I pace. Back and forth, back and forth. Trying to tell myself that I've done this before, that I can make it again. But I don't know if I can.

Once I'm done, I start packing my things. There isn't much to pack, since the Capitol provides everything. Just personal things, things that I don't want to leave behind. A picture of Rafe to remind me not to do anything stupid. One of Annie, to remind me why I go through everything. And the necklace that Rafe eventually made me keep, because it reminds me that there are things worse than this, that I could've been one of the twenty three tributes that didn't make it back.

Then, I go to see Rafe. I walk all the way over to his house, going as slowly as possible. He's going to kill me. He always lights into me, but this time is going to be worse, so much worse. I stop in front of his old house, then take a deep breath and knock. His youngest brother answers the door. He takes one look at me, then turns around and fills his lungs with air.

"Rafe!" he yells, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. "Finnick's here!" Then he whirls around to face me again. "He's coming."

I find myself trying to smile at that as he grabs a wooden bat and starts chasing around another sibling, which I can only guess was what he was doing before I interrupted. Then Rafe walks to the door, and any thoughts I have of smiling fly out the window.

"What's up?" he asks. I shrug.

"Wanna go to the beach?" I ask. That basically means, "let's talk".

"Yeah, sure," he says, and his eyes immediately grow weary, his mouth twisting a little bit. He doesn't ask anything, though, knowing that I'll tell him eventually. He just leaves the house and follows me through the streets. Again, I don't exactly go at the speed of light, and he pushes me forward.

"I'm going," I finally tell him.

"Yeah, as fast as a snail. You know that I'm going to be pissed at you whether you tell me now or in ten minutes."

"What makes you think that I did something wrong?" He snorts.

"Finnick, you're looking at me like you're worried I'll beat the shit out of you any second." We step onto the sand of the beach, a hundred or so meters before the ocean starts.

"I kinda am," I admit.

"I'll only do it if you deserve it."

"That doesn't make me feel any better." He sighs.

"Shit, what in the hell did you fuck up now?" I train my eyes on the white sand.

"I've been invited to the Capitol again. I'm supposed to leave tomorrow." He curses.

"And just what are you going to do on this trip?" I swallow hard.

"Probably visit some friends," I choke out. He cusses louder. Several people look at us, then look away. People around here tend to treat my like I don't exist, since most of them are kind of ashamed of how I ruined my reputation. The rest just see Rafe, who's got to be at least 6'6 right now, and they get scared senseless.

"Why?" he asks. I shrug.

"I'm not good at saying no."

"Annie?" he asks. His voice is cracking He's getting pissed.

"She knows, she's cool with it. Or she was, before her Games. Now I'm not sure what's going to happen. I hope they don't broadcast my trip too much, or at least that they don't spread too many rumors.

"You're kidding me, right?"

"No, I'm not. It's all true." He raises his fist, like he's going to sock me, but he lowers it right away. He's a nice enough guy, I mean, he doesn't treat me like his punching bag or anything. Unless he knows that I need it. Now, he can tell that I know exactly what I'm doing, and that a fist to the face isn't going to change anything.

"I'm surprised those girls even want to touch you anymore. You're ugly as shit." Again, I shrug like I don't care. There's a difference between looking like shit and looking ugly. I still have my features, and my muscles haven't gone anywhere, seeing as I've been staying pretty active until the last three weeks or so. All that Sylvia is going to have to do when I make it to the Capitol is slap some makeup on and redo my hair, and I'll be as pretty as I was five years ago.

"God, I wish," I tell him. That earns me a look, but I don't, can't, elaborate. It's too risky.

"Yeah, that wasn't weird at all. You don't make any sense," he says.

"To myself, I do."

"But no one outside of Finnick-land does, and it's extremely annoying."

"Finnick-land? I like the sound of that. A special place for just me. With lots of cotton candy and lollipops, you know."

"Has anyone told you that you're crazy lately?" I roll my eyes.

"You, but I don't think anyone else has the guts."

"I wouldn't be surprised. But you're seriously going to the Capitol?"

"Yeah," I tell him.

"And you're going to going out, aren't you?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"You asked me that already."

"And you gave me a shit answer."

"I can't give you anything other than that," I reply. He grits his teeth.

"Why are you doing this to Annie?"

"Sometimes, there are things you just have to do."

"Are you addicted?" Now it's my turn to grit my teeth. I've been handling this well, tossing everything he says back at him, but that hurts. Seriously, my best friend just called me a sex addict. That hurts. Bad.

"No, I'm not," I snap. He raises his hands in the air.

"Don't get mad. What else am I supposed to think?"

"You're supposed to trust me, to know me better than that." I shake my head. "God Rafe, I try to be a good person. I know it's unbelievable, but I don't like being the bad guy all the time." He looks away from me.

"I don't know what to think."

"Can we just quit talking about this? I'm going to the Capitol, and there's nothing you can do to stop me." He sighs.

"I don't like it."

"You don't have to." He isn't thrilled with that answer, but he gives up.

"Okay. Now you should go tell Annie good-bye, if you want to."

"Yeah, I guess I probably should."

"Bye Finnick."

"See ya." Then I leave him. I know I said I was going to Annie's, but I walk around a little bit longer, just to calm myself down. I hate talking about this, I hate it when even he judges me, and I hate that I feel like such a bad guy when this isn't my fault. It's the only thing that isn't, but it drives me nuts when the one thing I can be excused from is the one thing that everyone uses to judge me.

There's nothing I can do about it, though, so after I cool down a little, I go over to Annie's. Her father answers the door.

"Hello, Finnick," he says.

"Hey," I mumble, then brush past him, keeping my eyes on the floor the entire time. He retreats to his office as I head down the hallway. Annie's sitting on the couch, curled in a little ball, humming to herself.

"Did ya miss me, Annie?" I ask. She looks up, her lips curving into a small smile.

"A little," she admits. "But you're here now." I plop down on the couch beside her.

"Well, I hate to say it, but I won't be here long." Her face twists, like she just bit into a lemon.

"Why not?"

"I have to go on a trip."

"You have to?"

"Believe me, I have to." She sighs, then bites her lip.

"For how long?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe two weeks." I have to suppress a smile when she grabs my arm and holds on tight.

"That's too long. They'll come."

"Your parents are here, and so is Rafe. Do you want me to tell Rafe to come over?"

"He can't see them."

"But he'll be here." She shrugs.

"Maybe. I don't know."

"Well, you should figure it out. I leave tomorrow." Her grip on my arm tightens.

"Don't go." I bury my face in her hair, relieved when she doesn't move.

"I wish I wouldn't have to."

"But you'll come back."

"I wouldn't leave you, Annie," I say. She moves closer. It feels so good. I've missed being so close to her.

"What if they get you?" she asks. Oh, I'm sure that they'll get me. It just may not be the same "they" that Annie is referring to.

"If they even try, I'll make them regret it."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive." She turns her head up and tries to meet my eyes, but I have to look away. Usually, I can at least meet Annie's games, but I know that I can't, not when I know what I'm going to do. It was different before, different when she understood, or even when I knew she could take it. Now, if she finds out, it's going to kill her.

"Well, then that's fine. Just be careful."

"I will be. And you too?" She nods. I don't want to leave, but it's getting dark outside, and Alva always come early. I sigh.

"I should go."

"Good-bye." I stare at her, wanting to kiss her so badly, but also knowing that I shouldn't. I settle for hugging her, then kissing her forehead.

"Good-bye Annie." Then I leave, ready to head off to the Capitol. I'm scared to death of going, but I know that there isn't anything I can do about it. I'm just going to get it done and over with, then come back home to Annie, to the girl the I do, that I really do love, and that I'm going to spend the rest of my life with.


	16. The First Spark

A/N- I tried to get more action than romance in this chapter, and I hope that you all like it. Thank you for continuing to read this story, I really do apprecite it. Please read and review.

* * *

"He wanted power," the woman slurs. "He has always wanted power. But how would a paunchy, talent-less man get so much power?" Her shrieking laughter pierces the air. I kiss her forehead.

"Tell me," I say. Then she tells me the secret. The one that I know will lead to Snow's undoing.

"Poison," she giggles in my ear. "It was poison." I sit up a little straighter, but she's not going to notice. She was Snow's ex-wife (yeah, gross), and he ditched her for another chick, so she's pretty bitter. Not smart for Snow to let me have her, and now she is going to make him regret it.

"He started out on the bottom, but he was at the top within a year. I can't believe no one saw that, that no one noticed those who stood in front of him dying, and under the same conditions again and again." Her voice trails off towards the end, and I can tell that her thoughts are jumbled, but this is important. I need to know it, I have to.

"How did he hide it?" I urge.

"He'd drink out of the cup, to prove his innocence, and then the doctors…. The doctors made him antidotes, but they weren't perfect…." Then she shakes her head, and even though I press her for more, she's done talking. So I turn my brain off, and finish the job assigned to me by the President himself.

Then she's gone, and I'm left in my room all alone, with nothing but my thoughts. I should be analyzing what she told me about Snow, but instead I find myself thinking about Annie. There's nothing wrong with that, but it's not doing my job. Like it matters anyway. When I go back and tell my little resistance group about Snow's rise to power, they'll act interested, but then they'll basically say that it won't help at all, that I can't help. They'll say that we need to wait longer, even though I don't know how much longer this nation can wait.

Besides, it's not like I'm going to forget what she said. Snow poisoned his way into office. It's not that hard to remember. Annie is more important to me right now. So instead of worrying about tomorrow, I think about Annie. I fall asleep, wishing that she was in my arms.

* * *

I'm woken up early the next morning by a rough knock on my door. I basically roll out of bed, then slowly make my way to the door, not in any hurry to see anyone. Whoever it is doesn't like this very much. They don't stop pounding on the door until I open it. When I do, I want to just shut it right away.

"What do you want?" I mumble, glaring at the Peacekeeper.

"Someone wants to speak to you."

"Who?"

"He does not want you to know," the Peacekeeper says, then he checks his watch. "It won't take long, but you should hurry."

"Do I need anything?"

"No, just hurry."

"Oh, yeah, huh." Then I shut the door and ramble around my room to find a shirt. It's not even late enough for the sun to have risen yet, and I don't want to turn a bright light on, so it takes a few minutes for me to find one. The Peacekeeper keeps knocking, but I don't hurry. I doubt any meeting can be that important, so I take my time, not getting ready for another ten minutes.

When I go back out into the hallway, I get a nasty look, but the Peacekeeper says nothing. They never do, not to me. I'm the Capitol's angel. Truthfully, I'm supposed to be the guy who shows the people of the districts how great the Capitol is, how amazing the people are, and how they're just like us. I can only imagine how anyone outside of the Capitol sees me now. I don't even want to know.

"Where are we going?" I ask the Peacekeeper.

"You're meeting someone for breakfast."

"What kind of place is open at five in the morning?" Not in the Capitol, where people get up at noon every day.

"There are places," he says. Then we travel in silence. He takes me to a car, then gets in the back seat beside me. Some other guy is already sitting in the driver's seat, ready to play chauffer.

I fidget in the soft leather seat, not comfortable at all. Usually, I go where I want in this city, as long as I do what Snow says. I'm not used to this. I really want to ask where we're going again, but that seems childish. Instead, I just try not to fidget.

The car stops in front of a little café with a glowing open sign on the front door. It seems to be empty from what I can see through the windows, other than a skinny waiter wiping off tables.

"Who am I meeting?" I ask the Peacekeeper again.

"Wait and see," he says, like he's talking to a three year old. Then he leans forward and whispers something to the chauffer before getting out of the vehicle, gesturing for me to follow.

"I'm not going to my death, are I?" I ask the chauffer before I leave. He just laughs. Not a good sign.

When the Peacekeeper takes me into the café, I don't feel a bit more safe. The waiter bows to me, but that's not surprising. It's a Capitol thing. The thing that scares the hell out of me is the dude I couldn't see before, the broad shouldered guy in the far corner of the café, drinking what looks a lot like some kind of whiskey. At five in the morning. I can't see who he is, though, because he's wearing a dark coat with his hood up.

"Him?" I ask the Peacekeeper. He nods, then leaves. I stare after him, then watch as the car zooms away, leaving me there to deal with whoever this is all by myself. I stare at the person in the corner, who doesn't even acknowledge that I'm there. The waiter watches me nervously. A clock ticks in the background, but everything else is quiet. It's early enough that the usually busy streets of the Capitol are empty.

I should do something. Snow probably wants me to, and if I don't do what he wants…. I take a step forward. Then another. The man keeps sipping his whiskey, not glancing in my direction. I glance back at the window, imaging seeing Snow's face, laughing at me. Then I hustle forward, sliding into the booth across from the guy, not looking directly at him.

"You wanted to talk to me," I say. He looks up. I'm met with naturally angry features. Dark, slightly curly hair peeks out from under the hood, and the man has a smarmy smile that makes it look like he's using the last of his patience to please a snobby child. But the thing that sticks out are his steely gray eyes. There's anger, hurt, depression, but most of all, there's overwhelming sadness. I immediately know that this man has gone through the Games, just by looking in his eyes. The face is vaguely familiar, but I can't come up with a name.

"This is gonna have to be quick," he says curtly. Then he leans across the table and puts his lips to my ear. His breath is tainted with liquor, and it makes me queasy, but I force myself to listen. "You're to meet with Plutarch Heavensbee, one of the assistant Gamemakers. He's the resistance group's biggest Capitol allies. He has important information that you need to deliver to District 4, a vague plan to start the fire.

He'll find you tonight, you have to do nothing, but he won't tell you anything unless you say, specifically say, "The President is out tonight." Only say this if Snow doesn't meet with you. If he finds out that you've met with me, he will keep tighter surveillance on your room and it won't be safe to exchange information. Remember that."

I start to open my mouth to tell him I'm in, but the man shakes his head. Then, without another word, the waiter comes over and hustles me out of the café through a back door. The driver is back, the Peacekeeper still in the back seat. Neither of them say a thing. Neither do I. My mind is too busy processing what I just heard.

Something big is happening, otherwise no one would've risked contacting me in the middle of the Capitol. It's obvious that the guy wasn't a spy or something, otherwise he would've waited for me to confirm that I knew what he was talking about, so that means there's information worth finding out. I just have to pray that Snow doesn't look into my little field trip more than he needs to. But seriously, that conversation has me pumped up. First, there's the fact that we actually have allies in the Capitol, and in high places too, which is unbelievable. I had no idea, and I'm pretty sure that the majority of the District 4 victors didn't either. That's enough to make me happy, but knowing that I'm going to learn something that's going to be so big in the war, that has me wanting to grin from ear to ear. I don't, though. I've been doing this for three years, and I'm not dumb enough to walk into the building smiling like I just got a huge present. I'm supposed to be miserable, and Snow knows it. So either I hang my head and look like I'm on my death bed, or I get brownie points by flirting with every girl I see.

So I just sit there, looking as pissed off as I can. To help keep the smile off my face, I quit thinking about the war efforts and try to place which victor that was. I have no idea, though. He was middle-aged, which may be one reason that his Games haven't been on tv lately. But they do still show old ones. I've seen Mags twice in just the last few weeks I've been watching the reruns with Annie. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he's just had a tough life. I don't know. But he looked so familiar. I may have seen him mentoring, I guess I haven't paid attention. Whatever, it doesn't matter. What matters is that this trip isn't going to end up being the hell that I anticipated.

* * *

Later that night, when I'm sitting in my room, waiting for someone to drag me out of there and tell me to do my work, there's another knock on the door. I open it, and this totally beautiful girl takes a step into my room.

"Can I help you?" I ask, even though I can only guess what she wants.

That is, before I notice why she's so beautiful to me. She's normal. No alterations at all. Maybe 25, she has long black hair in a braid to her waist. Her dark-chocolate colored skin is smooth as silk, making a perfect background for her extraordinarily unique emerald eyes. She's nearly as tall as I am, and has the most unbelievably graceful build that I have ever seen. I know this victory almost instantly. Chastity Friesz, from District 11. She won three years before I did, particularly brutally, if I remember right. I'm not positive, but I'm pretty sure that she was there the year where the only weapons the tributes got were these horrible clubs. She bludgeoned everyone to death.

"You should come to me room," she says in a naturally quiet, slightly accented voice. I follow immediately. I'm not sure if I trust her because she's another victor, or if I'm just transfixed by those strange eyes that captivated so many during her games, but I can't seem to think straight. It's not until I'm walking out of the building Snow has given me that I start to worry. I don't get to worry long, however, because Chastity just drags me to a building across the street.

She slowly opens the door, looks around, then takes my hand and hurries me through hallways after hallway until we stop in front of a door. She doesn't go through that, though.

"Maybe something more private," she says, not very convincingly at all. I have the offhand thought that I should give her lessons, then I wonder if she even has to go through what I do. Well, of course. All the beautiful ones do.

Chastity kneels on the ground in front of a wall, and I can tell that she's feeling for a hidden panel. I step in front of her, blocking the view of any stray security cameras that Snow would have decided to place in the house. She finds the panel eventually, and the piece of floor that we're standing on sinks into the ground.

The room we enter is small, and once the floor goes back into the ceiling, it's extremely dark, lit only by a dim light bulb. The walls and floor are all made of packed dirt, like it was handmade not too long ago. Standing just a few feet in front of me is a tall, thin man with features that are obviously Capitol. He walks over to me and shakes my hand.

"Finnick Odair," I say.

"Plutarch Heavensbee."

"The President is out tonight." He smiles.

"Well, then get comfortable, because I have stories to tell," he says, his voice rising with excitement. Then he breaks into a crazy grin. "This is going to turn into the best Games yet." He starts laughing then. Chastity looks at him like he's crazy, then glances at me. I shrug, but I'm on the brink of laughter myself. Eventually I join in, and even Chastity laughs softly. And why not? Right now, there's every reason to be happy.


	17. Everything You Know is Wrong

A/N- Okay, I just reread Mockingjay over the last two days, and it took everything I had not to just skip over the ending. Really, that ending is why I was planning on stopping this story at the start of Catching Fire, because I didn't want to get anywhere near that. Now, I may have changed my mind. If I get any reviews thinking it's a good idea, I'm planning on continuing the story, but changing Finnick's fate. I'm not saying Susan Collins had a bad ending, it was probably realistic. I'm just thinking of something happier. So, if anyone else thinks I should keep the story going after the start of Catching Fire, please say so. Thank you. Now, here's the next chapter. Sorry about how short it is, but what happens next needs its own chapter.

* * *

Chastity is sitting in a corner, her arms wrapped around her legs and resting her head on her knees, listening intently to Plutarch speak. I lean against the wall, not comfortable with sitting in such a small, dark place. Plutarch is pacing back and forth, going on and on about strategies and plans, but nothing exciting, nothing like I wanted to know. I'll admit that I don't pay much attention, but I don't feel like I need to.

It's just a bunch of planning, just more of what I've been sitting through in District 4, except it's made slightly more entertaining by the fact that there's a big shot Capitol guy saying it. His accent sharply contradicts the words that he's speaking, and I find myself focusing on that more than his words. That is, until he stops speaking, and takes several seconds to stare at me, then at Chastity.

"The next thing that I am going to tell you is important. I've suspected it for some time, but one of our spies just confirmed our suspicions. This discovery will, has, changed everything." He pauses dramatically, and I start fidgeting. Finally, he continues. "I'm sure that you have been taught about the destruction of District 13 since you have started school. It isn't anything but a bunch of lies." I stand up straighter, waiting to hear more. Now this, this is necessary. I immediatly know that this alone could change everything.

"What do you mean?" Chastity urges softly.

"District 13 still exists, underground, and they still have all of their nuclear weapons."

"So you're saying that we could just tell them to fire away and blow the shit out of the Capitol?" I ask. Plutarch looks at me like I'm, well, stupid.

"No, they aren't that powerful, and then there's always the danger of killing off too many people. We need to wait, to continue to be patient."

"Shit, what is wrong with you? Everyone just wants to be patient, while more innocent kids are dying every year. We need to stop this, and now we have nuclear weapons, so why wait? If you don't use them, what's the point of District 13 even existing?" Plutarch isn't phased a bit by my outburst.

"How would District 13 survive for so long?" he asks, and I can tell he's going to launch into another tirade. "It's obvious. They're underground. It would mean everything to have a command center that the Capitol couldn't touch. And that's only touching the surface on the potential that this information could entail. We've only hoped for this before, but now that it's valid information, we can think up so many more possibilities.

"The only reason we can't start now, however, is the fact that we simply don't have the support. We don't even know if 13 will support us. They have no reason to, not since the Capitol is just ignoring them right now. If they side with us, they'll be under fire, along with the Districts. Add to that that there are so many Districts that aren't going along with us, that don't even suspect that this thing is forming. It's just too risky to start yet."

"Let me guess," I say sarcastically. "We need someone to get the Districts fired up." He doesn't notice my sarcasm.

"Exactly," he says. "We need to rally the Districts. As soon as we have their total support, we can start the war." I purse my lips, but I have to concede to his point. What I don't understand is why I can't just say something about Snow turning me into a tool, turn myself back into the good guy, and become the leader.

I can get people to trust me, to follow me. I can use words, I have looks, and with all my stories of Snow's abuse, I even have that scarred history that gets the districts to relate to me when they could before, when they thought I was perfect. I could do it… I could so do it… but I'm the only one who thinks that, obviously. I'm guessing there are little complications, things like that, that make it unfavorable. Whatever. I don't care if I'm the face of the rebellion or not, I just want it to start as soon as possible.

"And is there anyone in mind you have to rally the Districts?" I ask. He shakes his head.

"We're waiting for the perfect person." Chastity gestures towards me, not saying a word. Plutarch shakes his head.

"He'd be good, but there are too many intangibles if Finnick was our leader. Even if the Districts knew the true story, they've already grown not to trust him. We need someone that they'll look up to wholeheartedly. His questionable mental health is also a red flag." I close my eyes when he says that, trying not to lash out at him. It's embarrassing, when people talk about it, but he's right. Besides, throwing a tantrum would just add truth to his words.

"There are few Victors that the Districts trust," Chastity says in her soft, powerful voice. "Not ones that can move a nation with words, yet that have the looks that can make their face the symbol of the rebellion."

"That is why we're waiting."

"And it has to be a victor?" I ask, knowing that if his criteria doesn't change, we could be waiting an extremely long time. If the Victor is good looking enough to be the face of the rebellion, they're most likely going to also get thrown into the President's brothel, therefore eradication any trust from the Districts. If they aren't good looking, they won't be as effective as a symbol.

And if by some miracle we do find a good looking victor that's old enough to really take up the role, and that can use words well enough to start the rebellion, then they'll have to do it before Snow can tear them down. Yet, that messes things up, because you don't want to tell a victor that just won the Games about the rebellion, because they might not agree, and that will ruin everything. They'd have to figure out how horrible Snow is before they're prostituted out, and then have the guts to tell someone, or else we could have the perfect person but not know to trust them. That basically results in a zero percent chance of a perfect victor coming around. But you take someone off the street, someone who knows how bad Snow is because he's seen family members starve to death, someone who can talk, who's strong, who has the looks… If it didn't have to be a Victor, Rafe would be perfect.

"Well, of course," Plutarch says in this way that makes you know the topic isn't up for discussion. "The people wouldn't listen to anyone who wasn't, not to mention that we couldn't trust them to stand up to the pressure. To win the Games, you'd need a lot of the traits that are completely necessary to lead the rebellion."

"So I'll take that as a no."

"It's a definite know. Victors are almost a different breed. No one else will come close to being exactly what we need." After that, the talk goes back to more about District 13, how we know extremely little about them except for that they exist, which isn't exactly that helpful. They're guessing on everything else, although some of their agents are attempting to make contact. I stop paying attention again for a while, until Plutarch says that Snow will notice us missing if we stay away much longer. He stays, but Chastity and I are taken back up through the floor, back into the building.

"Put your arm around me," she whispers in my ear. "The media likes to see Victors together, and it'll reduce Snow's suspicions." So I do. We walk out of the building together, and I start laughing, and she puts a small smile on her face. People on the streets look, and then they grin, like they all knew what was going on. Several even wave. I blow a few kisses, and Chastity just starts giggling, which sounds horribly wrong because she obviously isn't someone who giggles.

We do a very good job of pulling of the "we're both shit faced and just got together" act. I guess both of us have had plenty of experience with that.

We stop in front of the building I'm staying at, and I spin her to face me, then start making out with her right there, knowing that there are cameras, and she wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me closer. Neither of us are very enthusiastic, but to anyone watching, it's the perfect cover-up. I mean, if I just disappeared and Snow didn't see me with a girl, he'd think that I forgot my job, and Annie would pay for it. Now, he'd just think that Chastity and I were having fun in private.

I act like I have to peel her off of me, then take a step back.

"That was fun. What are you doing tomorrow night?" I ask her, using my most velvety voice. The one smooth enough the several women that are close enough to hear visibly swoon.

"I'm sure I can find time for you," she says, using the same tone that I did. I kiss her again.

"I love you," I say, loud enough that anyone around can hear. She urges me on with her eyes. "I really think that you're the real thing," I finish, my voice filled with sincerity. "You already know I love you, more than words can say," she says. Then, for dramatic effect, we kiss again. This one is long and slow. When we're done, she walks away, and I retreat to my apartment.

It's past two by the time I get back, so I head straight to my bed and sleep immediately, despite feeling like I'm drowning in my thoughts, thankful for the night off.

The rest of my time in the Capitol goes faster, probably because I'm teeming with information to give to District 4. The rumors of Snow and his poison, but more importantly, the discovery of District 13. This stuff is so important, all piling together, stacking up, getting ready for the rebellion. Now, it almost seems like everything is all stacked up nice and high, and that just one more piece, the leader we can't seem to find, will send everything, namely the Capitol, tumbling to the ground. And then, then everything will be perfect.

I'm thinking of this all the way home, kicking back in the car of my train, just waiting to give away all this big news. Then, I actually get home, and see what's waiting for me. Let's just say that my smile fades. Fast.


	18. Welcome Home

A/N- Okay, I know everyone's all excited about that cliffhanger I threw out there at the end of the last chapter, and I seriously hope that this doesn't disappoint anyone. Thank you for reading.

* * *

I smell it first. The sickly metallic smell fills my nostrils, clogs my throat, seems to wrap itself around me and work its way into my lungs, suffocating me. My Games ended over five years ago, yet, it's like the ugly scent of death never really left me. My eyes are scanning the area before my brain is finished processing the smell, searching for some clue to where the smell could possibly be coming from. At first, I see nothing. I don't mean nothing is wrong. I mean that I see nothing at all. The usually busy streets are barren, not a single soul to be found. All of the stores that line our town square are closed, the lights off, shades pulled. The horrible possibility creeps into my head that Snow killed off my entire district.

That's when I hear it. The soft thunk of rubber boots on stone, not far away from me, but too quiet to find. I step forward, clutching my suitcase tightly enough that my hand goes numb.

My first instinct is to call out, to see who it is, but I have no idea what's going on, or who's coming. If the Capitol came to take down my district, there may still be soldiers milling around the streets, looking for stragglers. Instead of calling out, I gently set down my suitcase and creep forward, my eyes furiously searching for the owner of the footsteps.

Then, I hear the sound again. This time I manage to pinpoint exactly where it's coming from. Like it matters. By the time that the location of the noise sinks in and I whip around, the Peacekeeper is just inches away from me, the hard metal of his gun on my chest. I raise my hands up, showing him that I was never planning on doing anything. My heart is pounding against my ribcage, just waiting for him to pull the trigger.

"Don't you know about that qua-… Finnick Odair," he breathes, doing a double take when he sees my face. I feel my mouth stretching into what appears to be an easy smile, a smile that you can't help but trust. Really, my insides are twisting up, guessing at what he was going to say, wishing he hadn't cut it off.

"Yes sir. I just got back from a wonderful trip to the Capitol." His mouth opens. Closes. His eyes are lit up with confusion. He doesn't know what to do with me.

"I have to turn you over to the mayor," he says finally. Then he grabs a pair of handcuffs from his belt and gestures for me to hold up my hands.

"I'm not dumb enough to try anything," I tell him. "Besides, I have to carry my suitcase."

"It'll be necessary to have you restrained, when you… I will have your luggage sent to your residence immediately," the Peacekeeper says. I raise my hands hesitantly. He clamps the cuffs down. I close my eyes and bow my head as the man leads me off to the Justice building. My head plays through all the possible scenarios, everything that could've happened, but nothing fits. Nothing makes sense.

"What happened here?" I ask the Peacekeeper when no answer presents itself to me. The Justice Building is just a little more than a block away, but I can't resist. The Peacekeeper doesn't even look at me, though. I start fidgeting. It's nearly painful, not being able to know something that has so much to do with the ones that you love.

The Justice Building is swarming with unfamiliar people, all of them silent, with bright red faces, and weary, pain-filled eyes. They glare at me as I pass, hate replacing fear as they take me in, as they realize who I am. I do my best to make myself disappear, but that's never really been my strong suit. Instead, it seems like I have two sets of eyes or something, because every eye in that room is burning into my back.

I'm nothing but thankful when I get through the throngs of people, at least at first. Then I realize that the coldness of the hallways, with their white marble floors and bare stone walls, is worse than the icy eyes. The lights are horribly dim, and shadows dance on the walls, mingling with the voices of the people that still echo through the hallways to create a disturbing effect. I tell myself to keep my head up, my eyes straight, but I want to run. Every muscle in my body is telling me to run. I shouldn't be here. Something is horribly wrong, and Annie could be in trouble. This is a waste of time.

Then, the Peacekeeper stops in front of the Mayor's office. He knocks on the door.

"Come in," a man says in a nasally, slightly high-pitched voice that makes my skin crawl. I know that it isn't the mayor. I take a step backwards. Who, what is in there?

"I changed my mind," I tell him, my voice rising with anxiety. "I want to go home. I want to go to my house." The Peacekeeper doesn't even look at me. Instead, he opens the door, slowly, overly dramatically.

The man at the desk, evidently the man who spoke early, is indeed the mayor. He has a tag and everything. Mayor Winthrop, it reads, in big, bold leaders. That is the only thing about the man that even resembles big, or bold. The top of his little bald head wouldn't reach my shoulder, and he's as wiry as a coat hanger, with pasty skin and a pockmarked face. Thin wire glasses sit on a crooked aquiline nose, with pale gray slits of eyes peeking out from behind them. He looks like the kind of person who spends his afternoons talking to himself in his garden, chasing away little kids when they make fun of him. There's no way he could actually run District 4.

"What happened to Mayor Vincent?" I ask, not bothering with formalities. I've made up my mind about this guy. He's too creepy to trust. He fidgets nervously, like some kind of rat. His eyes never stop darting around. Not like Annie's do, though, but more like he's just on some kind of highly effective drugs.

"A lot happened while you were gone," he says. A shiver runs up my spine. I cannot stand that voice. It almost hurts to listen to. I should ask this guy if he could lead the rebellion. All he'd need to do was threaten to make a speech if the districts didn't rebel, and everyone would just jump to attention. Actually, never mind. I'd rather not have him anywhere near me, even if it meant the start of the war. That feeling increases when I start to smell him. The smell of something very similar to compost cuts through the stink of death that's been present since I got here. Is he decomposing or something?

"What, exactly, did happen?" I ask, after a second of thought. I don't want to hear him explain, but I desperately need answers, no matter how unreliable the source. I just need something, something to grasp at. I need to know that if I were to go to Victor's Village, that Annie and Mags would be safe, that Daisy and Rafe are fine.

"Your precious Mayor Vincent happened to get very sick, and passed away just two days ago. It was very tragic." The pure pleasure in his voice makes me sick. A five year old could figure out that he doesn't think it's tragic at all. I swallow.

"And how did this happen?"

"Well, after a quite inappropriate speech, he took ill very quickly, and he just never recovered. Really, it isn't surprising. The whole District was put under quarantine, after it started spreading." I grit my teeth. I try not to act out. I clench my fists. That goat ass of a president poisoned my entire district.

"And, have there been any other casualties of this disease?" I ask in a strangled voice.

"Not many at all. Really, only a select few got it badly. No one wants the population of my beautiful utopia."

"And why did some people get this disease when others did not?" I ask innocently. His thin, papery lips turn up into what I assume is supposed to be some kind of twisted smile.

"As I mentioned before, there was a speech where Mayor Vincent had made inappropriate comments about the topic of the Hunger Games. Several people attempted to agree with him, and it seems as if though the entire district started getting little fantasies in their head. We just had to show them how bad your luck gets if you decide to act upon those fantasies. Now, they are nice and compliant."

I feel myself panic. I know quite a number of people who would have supported the mayor. Really, all the people close to me probably would have. I want nothing more than to find out if they're okay. But I have more questions.

"So this is it? Just a disease. If that's it, then why was I brought into here wearing handcuffs?" He shrugs his thin shoulders, his lips stretching to the point that I wonder if they may rip in half.

"I guess, that there may have been a shooting. President Snow figured that you may be very… upset, and he didn't want you to cause a scene. You are much to valuable to do away with for something like that, you see." My heart stops. I swear to God that it just stops beating when I hear those words.

"Who?" I manage to choke out.

"It was very tragic, having a victor die like that. Such a waste," he says, wringing every drop of satisfaction he can get out of this. My wrists dig into the handcuffs, begging to be let free. I can't strangle the puny punk with handcuffs on.

"Who did you kill?"

"I didn't kill anyone. Your friend was making a scene, and it required swift retaliation." I close my eyes.

"Who died?" I spit out.

"Let's see… what's his name?" He taps his head, likes he's trying to knock the answer out. The handcuffs are starting to hurt, but I don't care. Maybe I can break them. They don't seem terribly thick.

"Answer me." That comes out as a growl.

"Oh, yes. Borglum, that was his name." Not Mags. Not Annie. But my closest friend among the victors. I stare at that pathetic little man, my eyes swimming with tears. It feels like I was just punched in the gut. Every breath is a struggle. My ribcage seems to be getting smaller, squeezing at my heart, constricting my lungs. I've dealt with death, but never has it so blatantly unnecessary.

I'm sure that he did nothing except utter one sentence against Snow, and they shot him on the spot. No second chances, no warning, nothing. They just lit him up. The handcuffs break through skin, but the metal doesn't give at all.

"Are any other victors "sick"?" I manage to spit out. I need to get my answers now, and I can let myself mourn later. For now, there's more that I need to know.

"Oh, I believe Miss Eliza is coming down with something as well. You see, she wasn't too happy with Mr. Borglum getting shot. She may have acted out more than President Snow is comfortable with."

"You're a prick."

"Why, I appreciate the compliment." Then this awful silence stretches out, every word that he'd uttered taking its time to sink in, one by one. My mind takes the information, slows down, processes it. If it's possible, I get even more pissed off. It's worse, because there isn't a thing that I can do. I just stand there, trying not to flip out, because that won't accomplish anything. Every instinct in my body is screaming at me to take out the threat, eliminate the enemy. It's what I've always done. It's what I want to do. But I force the anger down, I take a hold of my instincts. Right now, I don't need to worry about this slime. I need to get home, back to Victor's Village. I need to help Eliza, comfort Mags. Borglum was like a son to her.

"May I go?" I ask. Disappointment flashes in his spazzed out eyes.

"Don't you have anything else to say?"

"Thank you for filling me in. Now, I would like to have some time with my friends and family." Well, friends at least. It isn't like I really even have a family anymore.

"If you insist. I will have a Peacekeeper escort you to your home, just to make sure that you do not mean to cause trouble," he drones.

"Okay Sir. I appreciate it deeply." Those words are about as slathered with sarcasm as you can get. That seems to mean more to him than my sincerity. I remember someone saying that nothing pisses off your enemies more than when you forgive them, so for one last parting gift, I give him the present of my most beautiful smile. It doesn't touch my eyes whatsoever, but it's enough to take that smug grin off his face.

* * *

As soon as I walk into Victor's Village, Annie runs out of Mags' house to meet me. I guess she was waiting. She sprints straight into my arms. I reflexively hold her against me, just because I'm used to it. She doesn't complain, and I can't help but relax, despite everything. Then I really see her. Her skin is bright red and shines with a thin layer of sweat. Her hair is damp and messy, and her eyes seem to be sunk back into her head. Even worse, she's hot. I mean, her fever has to be over a hundred.

"Are you okay?" I ask her. She nods, then breaks into a fit of coughing.

"They came," she says, her voice hoarse and weak. "They shot him and made everyone else sick."

"Everyone else?" That stupid punk lied to me. Why am I not surprised? She doesn't confirm it though, she just shakes her head, then drags me over to Mags' house.

It's like walking into some kind of dysfunctional hospital. The air is contaminated with the smell of sweat and barf, but there's still that stink of death in the background. I take a tentative step forward, nervous of what I might find. When I see what awaits me in the next room, I know that I was right to be worried.

Mags is sleeping, her face as red as Annie's. Rafe is sitting by Eliza, who looks dead. I'm serious. Her fever must've broken, because she's ghostly white, her eyes giant black holes on her face. And God, she must've lost twenty pounds. She was thin before, but now she's emancipated. Her cheekbones stretch against her sagging skin, and the thin blanket she's covered with swallows her up.

Rafe's cheeks are red, but other than that he looks fine. Well, physically. His eyes seem haunted, and I can see fear there as well, fear of Eliza dying, of everyone dying. My grip on Annie's hand gets tighter. Everyone seems so weak. I have to know if there's any cure, anything that can help.

"Annie, can you look after Eliza? I want to talk to Rafe," I whisper. I don't think I actually need to, but there's just that kind of feeling to the entire house, the whole town really. Like just speaking could send everything that's in such a precarious balance tumbling to the ground.

"Sure," she says, just as softly. She tiptoes over to where they're sitting, obviously feeling the same way about the noise that I do. I guess it's just a human instinct. Rafe, who'd barely glanced up when we came in, gets up hesitantly after Annie whispers something in his ear. Then he slowly makes his way back over to me.

"Please tell me the whole story," I say softly. He gestures for us to go outside, so I open the door and step out into the cool fall air. It's a sweet relief, even with the taint of death. Better than actually seeing it, better than getting suffocated by all the other smells. Death smells good now, easy, compared to what I just saw.

"Borglum died," Rafe says to start off. I nod.

"I know. Our wonderful new mayor had me arrested as soon as I came into town, then explained things to me. Well, things as he saw them." I go on to tell Rafe what he told me, Rafe's face twisting more and more with every word. When I'm finished, he shakes his head.

"He has the big things right. Vincent spoke out against the Games, Borglum stuck up for him in an interview the next day, and things fell apart from there. They shot Borglum as soon as the words were out of his mouth, and Eliza freaked out. They took her and the mayor into custody. The day after they were released, both of them were sick.

"Then, it got worse. Mags thinks they released spores into the air, but whatever it is, the entire town has this disease, to some level. Everything has been shut down this entire week, so a lot of the poor are starving, since they can't work."

"How many have died?" I ask him.

"No one has said any actual numbers, but probably at least a hundred. Only the poor are really taking a hit, though, and that's just because they don't have the immune systems to take it. It's gotten to the point where Peacekeepers are burying bodies wherever there's loose soil, since most people don't have money to get actual graves.

"Then Eliza and the mayor both caught it hard, but that's because I think they injected it into the blood stream or something. I don't know, but Eliza is dying." I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to make it all go away when I open them. That's what I was afraid of, what I truly feared hearing after I saw her.

"She won't die, Rafe. I know that she won't. Snow can't just go around killing Victors like this. The people will hate him."

"They won't know it's him, Finnick. I've heard that in other districts, that the only thing being reported is a disease outbreak in District 4. That's what Borglum's death was reported as, too."

"Does anyone know what disease it is?" I ask.

"No. We paid the doctor to come over here, but she has no idea, nothing that would help. She just administered antibiotics and suggested plants to cool the fever, but nothing that she knows will work."

"So there's nothing we can do?" I ask. He shakes his head sadly.

"I don't think so." I cuss.

"Well, then I guess we should probably get back in there and start hoping and praying." He swallows hard and nods.

"I guess that's all we can do," he says. Then we go back inside, to try to save Eliza, and to pray that no one else gets any worse.


	19. Party At The Capitol

A/N- I actually made a nice long chapter this time. I hope you enjoy it. Thanks for reading, and please take the time to review. Thank you.

* * *

To say the next two weeks were torture is an understatement of the worst kind. Eliza regained her fever to the point that she barely ever woke up. When she did, her face contorted in pain, and her eyes were glazed over. She couldn't get names right at all, not even close. We became random people, probably friends from another life, or maybe the family that left her long before her Games. No one corrected her, though. Just speaking to her required everything you had. What do you say to someone who's dying?

No one slept more than a couple hours at a time, and then the slightest noise woke them up. Mags recovered quickly, but Annie's fever dragged out, not getting worse, but not improving, which terrified me. It was most likely because she wasn't sleeping, because she'd have one of her fits if anyone would try to make her. At the time, though, I wasn't thinking about that, so it just became something else to keep me awake. The hanging shadow of Borglum's death didn't help anyone either. Mags would just look off into space sometimes, and I knew what she was thinking about. Annie screamed bloody murder whenever she heard anything crash, and I'm pretty sure it's because she imagined a gun shot. I kept looking at his house, waiting for him to come help, then dying a little bit when I remembered he wouldn't.

The doctor came every other day, but she always said the same thing. There's nothing we can do. It's a surprise she's held on this long. Maybe it'll get better. But she doesn't think so.

I guess she didn't tell us she thought Eliza was going to die, not flat out like that. But it was clear enough. She wouldn't have had to even hint at it. Even Annie, who'd gone into some kind of zone where she wouldn't even speak to you, knew that.

Only Eliza kept holding on. She would scream whenever she woke up, and now that I think about it, I have to wonder if the disease wasn't eating her away from the inside. I don't know how else she could be in that much pain. Whatever it was, it got to the point where we drugged her whenever she seemed on the verge of waking up. Rafe or I would sit by her, wiping her sizzling forehead with a cool cloth, and Mags would tell her stories softly, like she could actually hear them.

Annie did more than anyone else, though. She'd sit there and hold Eliza's hand, sometimes singing under her breath. If we didn't get the drugs administered quickly enough, she'd stay there while she screamed, trying to sooth her, not losing her cool at all. She gave us breaks when we slept, she'd cook, clean. She went out to collect plants the doctor recommended, then prepared them, even though nothing was helping. She even went into town and bought everything she could, everything that was supposed to help. The shops still hadn't opened, but somehow she always came back with some kind of concoction that was supposed to help. It was impressive, since she totally broke down whenever she didn't have anything to do. She was both better and worse, and I wasn't sure if I should be encouraged or worried. I settled for worrying, though, because I wasn't in the mood to be encouraged about anything.

At the end of the second week, after sleepless nights and days spent doing everything possible to help her, Eliza slipped into a coma. I went to the Justice Building, then requested an audience with the mayor. People were still crowded in there. The poor, Rafe had told me. They were promised food, some kind of compensation for not being able to work. Whether they were getting it, I don't know. The rising death toll, which Mags now estimated to be six hundred, doesn't make me optimistic. I should come into town and go door to door with food and money. Yeah, then I'd either end up sick too, or mugged to death with nothing left. I have other things to worry about.

That becomes more obvious when an attendant comes and leads me to Mayor Winthrop's office. He's standing up, looking out his window at the streets that are now always barren. They expect the quarantine to be lifted next week. I don't know why they even have it. Basically everyone is sick. Except for me. I'm guessing that the initial spores are what really carried the disease, because I've been surrounded by sick people and haven't caught it at all. It's probably actually a type of poison or something. I don't know. Whatever it is, it's not contagious.

"Hello Mr. Odair," he says. I don't like it when people call me that, since it reminds me so much of my father, but I decide that it's better than him actually calling me Finnick. That would be creepy.

"Why would you want to kill off so many people from your District?" I ask him. He shrugs his wiry shoulders.

"This should kill any thoughts of rebellion. We can't take chances with this stuff. You know how important that is. Besides, if a war starts, all of your darlings in the Capitol will go away. So see, this benefits us both."

He doesn't know exactly why I have all those "darlings". Well, of course not. That's a secret that no one but Snow and a few select victors know. So this little man thinks he has an argument. He thinks that if there was a war, there's a chance I'd side with the Capitol, because I wouldn't want to lose the girls. He actually probably assumes I'm a sex addict, like Rafe did. And the sad thing is, he's looking at me like he thinks I'm an immoral creep. _Him! _It's even worse because now I have to lie about it, play along with him. It doesn't matter that he's obviously one of Snow's pawns. No one can know my dirty little secret.

"There are plenty of hot chicks in the Districts," I say through gritted teeth. "What pisses me off is that you would go this far to keep the districts down. They aren't going to rebel, okay? They know they're too weak. You don't have to kill them all to prove your point. Besides, isn't that what the Games are for?" I imagine I'm talking to Snow, probably because I am. There's no way he isn't listening to this, and I want him to hear what I'm saying. I want to make him think. I almost laugh to myself. Yeah, right. Like he'd think about anything he's done.

"Sometimes, extra preventive measures are needed. Now, is that all? Did you come to simply tell me that you're mad? I know that."

"I want the antidote."

"That makes it sound an awful lot like you think people are being poisoned. Are you accusing us of something?" I close my eyes, trying to keep my head on my shoulders. I can't say anything stupid.

"Isn't there anything that you have that can help Eliza?" I basically beg. "She's a victor. You can't kill of two victors in a row like this, can you?"

"It won't hurt anything much. Your district has more victors than most. Killing off Haymitch Abernathy from Twelve, or Alexander Mason from Seven, now that would be a tragedy. Every District needs a victor. They're very important, but yours had enough to spare."

"You make it sound like you're giving dolls to the poor. They're people," I spit.

"They are now unnecessary people." He turns away from the window for the first time since I walked in. "Now go away. I have important matters to deal with."

"Please," I beg, one more time, even though I know it's useless.

"Do you want to be escorted out of here?" Winthrop asks in that horrible voice of his. I turn to leave.

"I'm good, thanks." Before I'm out the door, I give him a rather unfriendly single fingered gesture that makes his little rat eyes get rather big. Then I stomp out of there and slam the door, like a two year old after a tantrum.

"That wasn't nothing against you, Snow," I say out loud, pretty sure he'll have a way to hear this. "That was all for that little prick you put in office." Don't get the impression that I respect Snow or anything now. That's more the fact that I don't want him to come kill Annie or anything because he saw that little fit.

On my way home from the Justice Building, I kick over any trash can I see, throw anything sitting around, take out my knife and go crazy on an old oak tree. I destroy anything I can, mumbling to myself, then screaming when I feel like it. People who catch a glimpse of me probably think I'm crazy, but I don't care. It sinks in for the first time. Eliza is going to die. Now I feel bad. I feel horrible.

I hadn't spoken hardly a word to her since, well, since that awkward conversation after that night. Now, she's going to die, and she won't wake up, and I won't be able to tell her how sorry I am or anything. She's going to die. I keep stomping forward, angry and sad, every thought cutting through my brain like a razor, until I just feel numb. I stumble into Mags' house, into the cloud of death.

"What did he say?" Mags asks. Her voice is raspy and quiet. Annie's is too. Another symptom of the disease, effect of the poison, whatever it is.

"No. There's nothing we can do." That's when everyone in that room really understands what's going to happen. It gets silent, and tears fill Mags' and Annie's eyes. Rafe sinks into a chair, burying his head in his hands. I just stand there, still numb. You can feel the despair crawling out from underneath everyone's skin, clogging up the air. I imagine that I can feel it brushing against my face, grating across my skin. It burns. It hurts. I want to leave, to get away from the feeling, but I can feel its determination. It would follow me. It won't let me go, not until the last speck of hope is gone. Not until Eliza is dead.

Two more days. That's how long it takes for her to finally die. She never wakes up, not once. We do everything. No one sleeps a wink in those two days.

It doesn't hurt, not like I thought I would. I think it's because everyone already accepted she was dead. Or maybe it's because it took so long, that we were eased into it. But for whatever reason, I don't cry, don't sob. I don't even get pushed over the edge like I did after Annie's Games. This weird hollow feeling fills up my chest, but that's it. And it doesn't last much longer than the funeral. Well, the first funeral, I should say.

At the first funeral, the nice funeral, all the Victors give a speech. Anyone in the District who isn't sick enough to stay home attends. Most people are better. The quarantine ended the day after Eliza died. The entire town square is filled with people, and the crowds branch beyond that, stuffing the streets full.

Death, however, is the biggest guest. I heard that they started burying bodies just a few hundred meters away from the main square, and you can almost feel it. Then, there's Eliza. When she was alive, she was one of those people that seemed to fit in the background. That's probably how she won her Games. People didn't notice her. But now, now the hole that she left beyond is something that I think every person in the crowd can feel. She had so much life. There's no way that she can just be gone. But she is, and the sickly feeling of Death makes it even more obvious.

I can see Him, like he's pictured in old stories. He'd be sitting in the front row, wearing his flowing black cape with the hood, holding up his scythe and laughing. He'd be happy, he's had so much work lately. I have to look over at Annie, hold her hand a little tighter, to bring my mind back to normal, sane things. Or not. Because when my mind is back in reality, I think of Eliza, and how she's not there. And that is a really insane thing.

The other funeral I mentioned, the second funeral, is more like a party. The day after the actual funeral, a letter arrived at every Victor's house. By this time, we'd all returned to our respective homes, trying to live life normally again. Not like it worked, but it's just something you do.

Well, the day after the funeral, we all got this letter. Apparently Snow was "deeply disheartened" by young Eliza's untimely death. So he arranged a huge funeral in the Capitol, with all these people who didn't know Eliza there to "mourn" her. No one wanted to, but can you really ignore an invitation from the President? No, you can't.

So all the Victors load up on a train to head away to the Capitol. Terror has a nice tight grip on me the whole trip. Annie is going to the place where girls chase after me like they know they're going to get some, because they know they usually will. I know I won't be expected to work on this trip, but still. Annie may be a little off, but she isn't stupid. She'll figure something out, she'll hate me, she'll have a huge relapse.

I pace back and forth, wanting desperately to just go back to District 4. Of course, I can't.

"Are you okay?" Annie asks me.

"I don't like the Capitol," I say. She shakes her head.

"Neither do I. There are so many of them there. It's dangerous. They'll come for us." I smile and walk over to her, draping my arm around her shoulders.

"Well, then we'll just have to stick together, okay?" She leans her head back so it's resting on my chest.

"That's fine with me." We stand there like that, together, for a very long time before Alva calls us to supper.

No one talks. There isn't a single victor that wants to do this, and it's obvious. It's awkward. We eat, then leave as soon as possible, branching off to try and forget. Annie comes with me. I'm glad.

We sit together on a couch, watching a news thing on District 13. I search the picture, wondering how the district could possibly still be functioning. There isn't a single living thing in the picture. But I'm not going to doubt Plutarch. I keep looking, not letting myself get discouraged when all I see is ruins. When there are so many things to keep me down, you have to hold onto whatever little speck of hope is left, no matter how unlikely. Besides, he said they were underground. So then why would I see them anyway?

The train arrives at the Capitol right after the show gets done, and all the Victors are escorted off to our private rooms. Annie is the only one who hasn't been back yet, since her victory tour is still two months away, and that's the first time the Victors usually come to the Capitol after their Games. She gets a room, though, because of course everything is so perfectly organized in the Capitol.

Since Annie, me, and another girl named Aquaria all have Silvia as a stylist, we get different prep teams, then take turns getting ourselves redone by her.

Since I'm a guy, and they don't have to do as much with me, I get to see Silvia first. She gives me a quick hug, and she actually looks like she means it. She was Eliza's stylist too, so she knew her.

"You okay?" she asks me. I shrug.

"As good as I can be." Then she proceeds to adjust my makeup, adds some gel to my hair, and puts me in a black suit. I give her a wry smile when I see the suit.

"My fans aren't going to be happy," I tell her. " I actually have a shirt on." The corners of her lips turn up, but her eyes are sad. She isn't thrilled with the way victors are treated, either. I wonder if she isn't a rebel like Plutarch Heavensbee, but then I realize that she wouldn't have the backbone. She knows all of this is wrong, but she wouldn't stick up for the Districts if it meant hurting her. Really, when I think about it, I have to wonder if that isn't the problem with the entire Capitol.

"Maybe now they'll actually see your pretty face," is all she says. I smile at her.

"That's not necessary. There's only one girl who needs to be looking at me, and she doesn't care about a pretty face," I tell her. Silvia gives me another hug.

"You're such a sweetheart," she says. "Annie's a lucky girl."

"To be stuck with me?" I ask with a snort. "I kind of feel sorry for her." Silvia starts to protest, but I leave before I hear it. It's not like I'm going to leave Annie, anyway. I just don't like hearing words of reassurance from someone who doesn't really know me.

"I can't wait to see what she does with you," I tell Annie when I walk past her. She smiles at me and adjusts my tie.

"Your eyes are pretty," she says. I mess up her hair.

"Not compared to you," I say. Then Silvia calls her in.

All in all, the funeral is basically shit. Snow gives a speech, saying over and over again how bad he feels about everything. Then all the Victors from Four have to talk a little, so I just mention that she was a good friend, my cheeks heating when I think about what I did to that last month of our friendship.

The most beautiful is easily Mags'. She has a way with words that actually wipes the smirks off the crowd's faces. Only for a minute, but it brings everyone who actually knew Eliza to tears, including myself. Then, the speeches are done, and the funeral turns into something more like a wedding. Food is brought out everywhere, a band starts playing music, and everyone starts dancing. I am dead serious. At a funeral!

Most of the group of victors stick together, trying to ignore the utter mockery of Eliza's death. It's impossible to do for long, though. Snow looks at us, and in his snake-like eyes are the order to behave as victors should, and I know that it's especially directed at me. Annie, who Silvia had put in a beautiful silver dress that makes my heart stop, grabs onto my arm when I try to leave, but Mags pulls her off me and starts whispering gently. I hear her explaining that I have a job to do as I leave them behind. Every step away from them hurts more and more, but for their safety, I make myself continue. Once I'm as far away from Annie as the party will allow, I let myself transform into the Capitol's Finnick.

My body relaxes, even as my nerves tense up. A cocky smile stretches across my face, and I feel my features rearrange themselves into a look that I know makes me look like a total prick. But girls like it. At least the ones from the Capitol do. So I do it.

"Finnick," someone chimes. I turn around. A girl is looking up at me with wide brown eyes. I probably slept with her before. I have no idea who she is. I make my eyes light up with recognition, run my hand through my hair, like I'm all nervous about meeting this beautiful girl here.

"How are you doing?" I ask, seeing as I don't know her name. She latches onto my arm, and I get the impression of a leech. My skin crawls, and I almost gag on the cloud of perfume that follows her.

"I'm good. Isn't this food amazing? I swear, I'm going to eat all night." I work to keep my smile on. Because the thing is, she will eat all night. In the Capitol, if there's a party with food, the people eat. And when they get full, they throw up. I know that District Four has hundreds of people that are dying of hunger, and we're one of the wealthiest districts. Then, there's the Capitol, which does that. It's disgusting.

"I know. You have the most amazing chefs here. The food from District 4 just does not compare to here." I lean in close, like I have a secret for her. "The women don't either." She giggles, then turns and kisses me on the lips. They all do that. I sleep with a girl once, she remembers, I don't, then she sees me again and it's like we've been going out for months. I don't get it. They can't be that stupid, can they?

"You don't mean that," she says. I run a hand through her hair.

"Of course I do." I never do get that chick's name. A couple minutes later, she tries to take me to her place, but I politely tell her that I'm not allowed to leave the funeral since this isn't a trip for my personal enjoyment. She pouts, makes me promise to notify her the next time I'm in the I Capitol, then runs off to some other guy. What a succubus.

I don't have too much time to be thankful, though. Another girl finds me, then another. I'm kept busy all night, until Mags finds me and tells me that the train is leaving in a half hour. I join the rest of the victors, finding Annie immediately. Mags tried to keep her away from me all night, but I know that she saw me more than once. I can tell. She doesn't say anything, but she doesn't relax against me when I put my arm around her waist. I figure it doesn't matter if people see. They've seen me with a dozen other girls, too. They'll just figure I'm a player, and hell, I am.

Almost everyone goes to their rooms once we get on the train, dying to sleep, I'm guessing. Annie tries to, but I grab her arm.

"Can we talk?" I ask her. She bites her lip, obviously not wanting to. She's mad. She's hurt. And of course, like always, she's a little bit scared.

"I don't think-"

"Annie." She bows her head.

"Fine." I lead her to my room, and have her sit on my bed. She puts her feet up and wraps her arms around her legs, then rests her head on her knees, her big green eyes looking up at me like a puppy that I just yelled at. It takes everything I have not to look away.

"Do you remember anything?" I ask. "Anything before your Games?"

"I've started to," she says quietly. "I'm not blocking it anymore. I remember my sister. I remember when I was poor."

"Anything about me?" I urge softly. She swallows and nods.

"I remember you leaving. Going to the Capitol for weeks at a time, and wishing that you'd come back. I remember seeing you with other girls, and crying. But I didn't think it was true." She says everything so softly that I can hardly hear it.

"Do you remember why I did that?" I breathe in her ear. She closes her eyes, shakes her head.

"No."

"I like you, Annie."

"But not like you like them."

"No, not like I like them," I say. She buries her head a little more, but I grab her chin, make her look at me. "I don't know them. I hate them. I love you."

She tries to jerk her head away from my touch.

"No."

"You know that. You just need to remember."

"I don't want to remember," she says, on the verge of tears. "Don't you get that? It hurts too much. Everything hurts to much." I kiss her lips, just for a second, but it's long enough to send shivers through my entire body. This time, it's in a good way.

"Did that hurt?" I ask her.

"Sometimes poison tastes good," is her answer.

"I love you."

"Then why?"

"Just remember that there's a reason. You know me, right?" She nods, her eyes brimming with tears. "And you don't think I'd really do those things, do you?"

"No."

"Then just remember that."

"Finnick?" she asks.

"Yeah?"

"Are you my boyfriend?" That question is just so cute, so perfectly Annie, that I have to kiss her right there.

"I'm so much more than that," I whisper to her. "Well, if you don't mind."

"I wouldn't if you-"

"Annie?"

"Yeah."

"If I told you that sometimes you have no choice, you'd know what I was talking about, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, this is one of those things." She starts tracing my features with her finger, a trail of heat seeming to follow her soft touch.

"I don't like it."

"Neither do I."

"But you'll still promise to never leave me?" she asks softly. I grab her hand, then put my forehead to hers.

"I promise, Annie." Then I kiss her, one more time, before she leaves.

I go to sleep with a smile. Sure, I dream about cannibals, and Arowana getting a knife through her back, and succubeses chasing after me, but just going to sleep with happy thoughts is good enough for me. It gives me a little more hope that there's a good reason to wake up the next day.


	20. Memories

A/N- This is slightly different from my other chapters, with a field trip for Finnick added in, but I hope you don't mind. Thanks for reading.

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The next two months seem to drag out endlessly. It's like when there's ten minutes left before you have to be somewhere, and you just stand around, not really doing anything since there's no time to start something. I couldn't really get comfortable with Annie because of her Victory Tour looming just around the corner. She was terrified of it, going into fits where she wouldn't stop screaming about "them", crying because she knew "they" were going to take her away again. It hurt me so badly every time that she did that, because my hands were tied behind my back. I couldn't do anything to help her, and that was made more obvious every second.

Maybe it's a blessing in disguise that Snow invited me to do some kind of historical thing for this District 4 special that they're doing, just a day after Annie left.

I get taken onto another train, but this time it isn't to the Capitol, it's to the arena. I'm nervous, but I manage to mostly keep it off my mind by watching footage of the Victory Tour. Annie makes her speech in District 12 just an hour after I leave. I don't pay too much attention, because I know it's just something someone from the Capitol wrote for her, but I still keep an eye on the tv. Then, I notice a pair of hard gray eyes looking at her from the front row. District Twelve's lone victor, Haymitch Abernathy. I look at him, how he's slumped over in his seat, obviously drunk. But those eyes…. I'm immediately positive that he was the one who met me in that little Capitol café, the one who told me to meet with Plutarch.

I look at him for a second, then go back to the book I was reading. Does it matter? There are rebels in different districts. It's just… there's something different about him, this kind of mystery that surrounds him. Why haven't I ever seen his Games, or anything about him. I know his name, but that's just from his mentoring year after year. Really, I can't even call it mentoring. District 12 hasn't even been close to having a victor after him, and I doubt they ever will, mostly because he never does anything to help them. I've heard rumors around the Capitol that he drinks through the entire Games.

I can't be too mad at him, though. If I was forced to mentor two tributes by myself year after year, and never get a single one that got even close to winning, well, I'd probably start just drowning it out too. The only way that Mags has survived so long is that she goes by that rule, that ultimatum she gave me before my Games. Listen to her, listen to every word she says, and she'll try to help. And if I don't, well, then she'll let me die. Then Borglum…

This weird panic takes me over then, the pictures on the tv blurring before my eyes. Borglum is dead, and obviously none of the other Victors have wanted to mentor before. That means that the youngest will have to, if no one else volunteers. And that's Annie, so it's a given that I'll take her spot, if no one else says anything. I bury my face in my hands. No, no way. I can't… but I'll have to, I'm almost sure of it. I'll talk to Mags when the time comes to decide, but I know that she'll tell me what I already figured out.

I rest my head back against my chair and close my eyes, digesting that new obstacle that's been thrown in my path. Then I pick it up, and toss it to the back of my head, where it belongs. Right now, I have a job to do. If I do it well enough, maybe I'll get away from my other job, my actual job. I doubt it, but since I'll spend most of the time at my old arena, filming there, maybe I'll be spared the girls.

Although I'm not sure what's worse: reliving and talking about scenes from my Games on a special that'll be airing as soon as Annie's victory tour is done, in some huge District 4 marathon they're running because of the recent deaths, or sleeping with random girls, some of which are twice my age. I guess I'll have to wait and see exactly what they're going to have me do when we get ther.

I manage to catch some footage of Annie's banquet at District 12, which is really nothing more than a party in their ancient town square. I just watch it to see enough of Annie to calm me down as we approach the arena. At the time, their mayor is cutting into a huge cake, beautifully decorated like the ocean. A smile crosses my face as I see Annie standing behind him, her long brown hair blowing into her rosy face. Snow dusts the ground there, falling lightly from the air and decorating Annie's hair. She's smiling, and her eyes are lit up brightly, taking in everything. There's still that edge of wariness, but she looks happy enough that I can convince myself to turn the tv off just as the mayor hands Annie a piece of that beautiful cake, so obviously the only nice thing in that entire ceremony.

"Are you coming, Finnick?" Alva calls into my room. I throw on a jacket, then jog out of my room.

"Coming," I tell her. Then she leads me off the train, and down into the catacombs under the arena.

Suddenly, I'm fourteen again. Scared, but cocky, confident. Every nerve in my body is tensed up and wondering what I'm going to do when I get into the arena, how I'm going to meet up with Arowana, what everything will look like. It's like déjà vu to the point that the part of me that's still in the present is wondering if I have some kind of horrible mental disorder.

Nothing has changed, not at all. I heard they put up posters and plaques, stuff like that, but they must have taken them down for when they tape me. I touch the chair I sat in, the place where I saw my outfit for the first time, that blue tunic and those black pants, the thick coat and boots. Just as I'm thinking of that, remembering analyzing them to see what the weather in the arena will be like, Alva gently taps my shoulder, like she knows that I'm definitely not in that room.

"Yeah?" I ask, touching everything, reliving it, even though it isn't something I want to relieve. It's just that being there again, being the Finnick I used to be, it actually feels good. I knew who I was then, here, and now I feel myself slipping back into that skin, back into the true Finnick Odair. Not the Capitol's pet, not the broken man from District 4, but the person that everyone listens to, no one questions, and that doesn't question himself.

"I know you may not want to, but they want you to wear what you did for the Games." I look back at her.

"I look nothing like I did five years ago." And I don't. I'm at least four inches taller, the boyish features gone, and my shoulders noticeably broader. It's weird to think about, but right now, I'm only a little under a year older than Titus was at the time he was in my Games. That's when it dawns at me how unfair it really is for the younger ones, why seventeen and eighteen year olds nearly always win. I'm so much faster, so much stronger, and so much smarter than I was back then. I guess it's lucky I was beautiful.

"They know that, but it will be more authentic." So, just like that morning my life changed forever, I change in the catacombs. Only I don't give Sylvia a good-bye hug, because she's not there. And I don't go into the arena alone. A camera crew follows, with Alva on their tail.

As soon as I see everything again, I'm completely gone. The clouds still look like cotton balls pinned into the sky. The grass is still soft as cashmere, and if anything, the flowers are brighter. Birdsong still rings through the air, and the platforms the tributes once stood on are in the exact same places. The cornucopia still gleams in the sun, and even more unbelievable is that they've put all of the weapons back, in perhaps the same place.

"Are those the weapons the tributes used?" I ask breathlessly.

"The weapons are the same, but the packs and supplies have been duplicated. Any weapons that you used are on display in the museum outside the arena." The only thing I wanted to hear about was the weapons, so I walk over to the cornucopia and search until I find Arowana's golden sword. I hold it against my chest, tracing the blade with my fingers. I can still feel her on it. I can feel her beauty, her strength, and her undying love for her family, even on her deathbed. I don't cry, but if I wasn't slipping back into the person I was in the arena, I think I would have. Instead, I set it down gently and walk away.

I scope out every little place that had any significance, surprised by how much I remember. That's the tree I hid in while I was waiting for Arowana. Those are the packs I grabbed, and that's where my spear was, now replaced by a duplicate. I listen to the stream, now bubbling quietly like it did at the start of the Games. In my mind, I go through all the phases it went through. The raging torrent, after the rain, and then when it went completely dry.

"Are you okay?" someone asks. I'm more than okay. I want to stay. The arena was so simple, and right now, it's beautiful. There's no one trying to kill me, no Gamemakers ready to throw in a tornado if things get to boring.

Remembering the tornado, I look to see if it's warpath is still there, and adrenaline starts flowing through my veins when I realize it is. A little ways off, you can see the trees uprooted and onto their sides, like a giant came through, tossing them around whichever way he felt like. It's amazing.

"I'm fine," I finally answer.

"Are you ready to start?" Alva asks me. I nod, even though I don't know if I want to. If we start, then we'll have to finish.

First, we go to the place where I made my first kill. Arowana and I were about to cross the stream when I saw something move out from behind a tree. Without even realizing that it was a human being, I fired my spear at him. He died. I remember what that first kill was like, how I thought about his family and friends and what they think of me. That was the last regret I felt during the Games, though. When everyone is out to kill you, it's easy to get over it.

Someone hands me a spear, and tells me to stand in a spot that I'm sure is the exact same place where I killed the boy.

"Slowing everything down and being as honest as possible, what was going through your mind when you made that first kill." I tell the truth. I don't know if it's because I'm still sickly giddy of what, but I don't lie.

"My mind was completely clear. I just saw something moving behind me, so I turned," I turn around slowly, like I probably did during the Games, "and threw the spear. Then it hit the kid, and he crumpled to the ground with this horrible noise." I shiver, some of that giddiness going away. Being in the arena is fun. Remembering back when I was the real Finnick is fun. Talking about killing people, yeah, not so fun.

"That was your first kill, did it hurt you any?" I look at the place where I know the boy fell.

"Yeah, it did. Your first kill…. You get this horrible feeling in your heart, and all you can think about is what their family and friends must think about you." I realize that Snow may not like that, so I hurry up to saw more. "Then you remember that he was going to kill you too, and you figure that you better get used to it. Then, it gets easier. You realize that you have a family, too, and that you won't be able to get back to them if you can't stand to take the life of a kid that's hunting you." They ask a few more questions, then take me to where the next kill took place. If I understood everything right, we're going over all my kills first, then other major events.

This was really the only time I was close to dying, when I decided to take on the guy from 12 instead of running. For some reason, I wonder if Haymitch remembers that. I guess he didn't seem mad when he saw me before, if it truly was him.

"Arowana wanted to run when she saw him, didn't she?" one of the camera people asks. I nod.

"She saw them and told me to get out of there. I don't know exactly what went through my head, but I just remember that I didn't want to run. I thought he'd be so easy to kill, that I should take him out so he wouldn't do the same to me later."

"Your plan didn't work like you thought it would, though, did it?" I manage a smile.

"Not quite."

"Take us through it." So I do. I show them how I was speaking up behind him, but he heard me. He had me against the tree with a knife to my face, but he'd hesitated. I don't know if he was hoping for some kind of cool dramatic effect, but he kept that knife pointed at me just a second too long. I, however, didn't hesitate. I thrust my knife through his stomach, and he dropped dead.

We do that, going through all seven of my kills, which lead all tributes. They pay special attention to when I killed the girl from 1.

"The beautiful ones are always the most fun to kill?" one of them asks, questioning a quote which has established itself as a Capitol favorite. I shrug, not exactly thrilled with remember that particular part of these Games.

"We were arguing, going back and forth. She mentioned how I fooled them all in training, pretended to be just another pretty face, and I taunted her, saying something about how she couldn't have messed up my beautiful face. Then she actually said that quote, it was originally hers. Well, I got her to chase me, dropped my net, stabbed her with the trident, and then sort of threw that quote back in her face."

Again, they ask a few more questions, have me go through the chase in slow motion, trying to explain what was going through my head. I have to wonder why they didn't do this like the year after my Games, when this stuff would've been so much more fresh in my head, but then I realize that they probably wouldn't have needed to. They're probably just doing it now because there's so little news, and the last two Games really haven't been that exciting. I mean, in Annie's so many people died from that flood, and the one before that was done in days. People are getting bored, and since I'm the most entertaining tribute, Snow probably just wants his ratings to go up.

We go over the last kill, how winning the Games felt, then we're taken back through the arena to go over some other things. First, they ask me about the fight.

I get to go back to the cave and everything. As soon as I set foot in the little crevice in the rock that I spent so much time in, I collapse on the ground, just feel the cool stone under my hands again. So much happened in here, so much changed.

The camera crew doesn't give me much time to think, though. They take me back to the fight with Arowana.

"Can you go over what exactly happened to start that fight?"

"I hadn't woken her up to take her watch or something stupid like that, and she sort of freaked out on me. I told her that I was worried or that I didn't want her to get hurt, and she thought I was lying. I guess I sort of ignored her at school, and maybe I could've given off the impression of being a jerk, but whatever it was, she basically told me I was a prick, and would use my little sister as a human shield or something. I blew up, and somehow everything ended with a knife to her neck."

"But you didn't kill her," someone says.

"I couldn't like that. I needed a partner, and I did like her. Killing her then would've been underhanded, not to mention stupid. So, I did the next best thing. I kissed her."

"Or tried to," someone elaborates. I flash a grin that is so classic Finnick that it surprises me. Reliving this part of the Games isn't so bad.

"Yeah. She sort of got pissed at me, and God was it awkward after that." They laugh, then usher me to the spot of the tornado. We go through that, then they ask me about the plan to net the tributes that never really worked out.

"Well, my dad directs most of the fishing boats from Four, so I've been working on those boats since I could walk. It was only natural for me to go fishing. We even threw in the idea of bait, but I guess neither of us were sure about that. Arowana died before we could try that, but then I got that trident."

"So you just modified your plan for one?"

"Yes. And that's how I won."

We talk a little more about the Games, but then we're done, and they start to usher me out of the arena. I stick behind, just for a while. My senses are so much more tuned in here, and everything seems more vibrant than real life. Every color, every smell, every sound is times ten.

It's beautiful, marvelous, and even the ghosts that haunt the arena don't change that. I'm someone else here, someone that isn't hurt by the past. I know that as soon as I step out of here, that revisiting everything will hurt me, but right now, now it truly feels good. I take a deep breath before I leave, hoping that maybe it'll help me hold onto this person a little longer.

I don't think anyone could consider it a good thing, but that day, I think it truly realize for the first time that every person is built for some place specifically, that there's a certain environment where they're at their best. Annie's is the ocean. Mine, mine is in the arena for some twisted reason. I remember how I used to worry that I was born for the Capitol, how I'd fit in so perfectly there. I was wrong. I'm not built for the Capitol. I'm built for the Games, the epitome of what a tribute should be. Even afterwards, the attributes that made my Games so easy for me have stuck around.

I have no idea if this should scare me, or if it changes anything, but it makes me hyperaware of everything I've done, every action I've taken. It's interesting to see, how one person can play a part so well, so exactly. Maybe, maybe now I'll finally be able to relax and slip into the role that I've been given, even though it's not the one I want. President Snow may be thrilled that he has such a perfect tribute, but hedoesn't know that I'm not playing his Games anymore. Plutarch Heavensbee is starting his own Games, and he's laying down his own rules. Now, I'm switching sides under the President's nose, and hopefully one of his biggest weapons is going to end up being his downfall.


	21. Love, Friendship and a Fish Woman?

A/N- Thanks for the awesome reviews, I really appreciate it. I'm glad you liked that chapter, and I hope that you'll like this one too. Just a quick warning, but my posts may get more infrequent with the start of basketball practice. I won't take a month long break or anything, but don't expect a new chapter every night. I'll try to keep writing as much as I can though. Thank you for reading.

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The sky is dark, and silver colored clouds press down on District 4. The air is thick with humidity, which adds to the feeling of being shoved in a box. Thunder plays angry music in the distance, with lightning dancing to the fierce melody. Yet, to me, it's one of the most beautiful days of the year. Annie is due back from her victory tour any minute, and every nerve in my body is wired tightly with anticipation.

"Calm down Finnick, you look like you're going to mug her," Rafe says. I crack a smile and punch his arm. Since my little trip to the arena, I've been more relaxed, and I'm pumped up for Annie to get back. Well, and Mags. I need to call an emergency meeting pretty soon. It's been over a month since Plutarch talked to me, and I haven't said a word to them about it.

I guess the fact that our resistance group is down to three people sort of takes the tragedy away. I wonder if we'll even hike up the mountain anymore. Mags needs to be carried a lot of the way, and Felix isn't strong enough to, which leaves me to haul her the whole way. She may be tiny, but the hike along could kill someone. I get this horrible thought that the District 4 rebels have been shut down. Then the train pulls up, and I basically stop caring. Annie's back.

Annie is the first one off the train, and I immediately run over there and wrap my arms around her, holding her tightly against my chest.

"I missed you," I whisper in her ear. She leans up and kisses me softly, her eyes sparkling so beautifully that looking at her almost hurts because I love her so much more than a human should be able to love anybody. It seems like we finally may be able to really have a life together. We've both made it through the Games, broken and beat up, but we're here now, and I can't imagine that anything will tear us apart if we haven't been already. Sure, there's gonna be a war, and hell, I pray I'll get to fight in it, but if I haven't died yet, a stupid war isn't going to take me out.

"I missed you too," Annie whispers. My grip on her tightens, and I bury my face in her soft, curly hair. This is perfect, so perfect. I hadn't realize how much I missed her, but now that she's back, I don't want to contemplate her leaving again.

"Finnick," Alva whispers. I consider flipping her off, but Annie wouldn't like that. Instead, I try to ignore her. I know that she'll say what she wants to say whether I answer her or not.

"Finnick," Silvia says now. "I need to get Annie ready."

"How can you make her anymore beautiful than she is now?" I ask. Annie giggles, but pushes me back.

"It'll all be done tomorrow," Annie says. I kiss her one more time, then finally let her go.

"Yeah, I guess," I mutter, not exactly thrilled. The prep team, Silvia, and Alva think this is so cute, and they all start laughing. I don't. I grab Rafe and drag him away, sneaking one last peek at Annie from over my shoulder. She blows me a kiss. I give her one back and Rafe laughs at me.

"You are such a girl," he says.

"Have you ever been in love?" I ask him. He snorts.

"If I have to go through what you did to get love, I think I'm fine without it," he says.

"Oh come on dude, I say it's worth it."

"Fuck that. My head is screwed on nice and tight, and there's no way some stupid girl is going to unscrew it."

"So you're saying that I don't have my head on straight?" I ask, loading my voice with over exaggerated anger.

"I wouldn't have said anything if I thought it'd make you mad," he says innocently, like he's serious. I start to tell him I was messing around when he continues. "I mean, you're so fucked up that I figured you'd probably think that was a compliment."

"I ought to throw you off the dock for that."

"You're threatening me, you little punk? I wouldn't be acting so tough to someone who could bench you two times over." I try to stand up taller to look down at him, but he's so much taller than me that all it really does is make his size advantage that much easier to see.

"I could so take you," I say, trying not to crack a smile.

"Wanna bet?" he asks. I notice him backing onto the dock, and I follow him, hoping to lead him off the edge.

"Sure, I'll take that bet," I tell him. Then I rush at him. He doesn't back up like a normal person, though. No, the dumbass grabs me and picks me up, cradling me in his arms like I'm a baby. I don't struggle because then he'd just throw me over the edge.

"If you throw me over, Annie's gonna find out, and you don't want to know what she'd do to you." A grin spreads across Rafe's face.

"What? Laugh and thank me for giving her a mental picture that will forever make her happy." I have to laugh, because knowing Annie, that's exactly what she'd do. Oh well, I guess that's why I love her.

"Okay, you got that one. But it's freezing, and there's lightning, and I really don't want to die."

"You're awful heavy, Finnick. You better convince me not to drop you pretty quick."

"Just put me down," I almost scream. So he does. In the damn ocean. Only as soon as I feel him letting me go, I get a vice grip on his leg and he comes down with me.

The wind isn't bowing that hard, so there aren't many waves, but the water is cold enough to chill me to the bone. My teeth start chattering instantly, and I know that we should really get out, but really, I'm having fun. I grab Rafe by the neck and dunk him under, holding him down there until he rears me off like a bronco, sending me flying through the water. Then he chases after me, grabbing my waist and twisting me around, grinning himself stupid the whole time.

We only mess around for a minute before we crawl out of the water and onto shore, freezing, numb, and laughing our heads off.

"Shit, my toes are purple," Rafe complains. They aren't even purple. At least that purple.

"It was your idea to throw me in the ocean," I say.

"Yeah, but I wasn't planning on joining you," he says, that messed up smile still spread across his face.

"No one messes with Finnick Odair and gets away in one piece." Then I take another look at Rafe's toes. "Actually, we better hurry up before that's totally true."

I get up, then haul Rafe to his feet, rushing him to my house. Then I make sure that he knows what to do with his feet before I take a quick shower. After that, I throw on a suit for Annie's banquet, then head downstairs to check on Rafe. I still have to gel my hair and put on makeup- Snow's strict orders for all public appearances- and I want to get Rafe out of here so he does not find out that I have to do that. Okay, I know maybe that's a little petty, but there is no way in hell that Rafe is going to find out I wear makeup, no matter if it's an order or not.

"How you doing?" I ask Rafe. He makes a face.

"Fine. My feet hurt like hell, but they aren't falling off."

"Do you want me to give you a ride home?" I ask.

"Yeah, that's fine." Thank God. "See you at the banquet?"

"Yup. See you there."

I take Rafe home, finish bringing out my "natural beauty", then head over to the town square. That banquet doesn't start for an hour yet, but I sort of hope to see Annie there. If not, I figure that I can find someone to talk to. My district is actually proud of me, other than the other eleven, so I can go up and talk to random people if I want.

When I get there, people are already milling around some of the shops, gazing at the food that set out under tents, not to be touched. I don't really see anyone I know, so I just walk around, smiling, nodding hellos. Then I catch a glimpse of Felix standing with a couple other victors, including Orica Nadar. I freeze in my tracks when I see her. This chick scares the crap out of me.

She is the youngest victor in the history of the Games, the only victor to win while she was twelve. This was maybe eighteen years ago, so she's still just 30. She's also one of the most ferocious killers the Games have ever seen, and she's still terrifying.

Orica is one of those victors that you would never ask to take part in the rebellion. She's Capitol all the way, from her powder blue skin to her bright yellow eyes. She lived underwater, or mostly at least. On the very first day, she swam deep into the lake and found a hole in the rock, revealing a hidden cave, about two thirds filled with water. There was just enough land for her to sleep on, even though I don't think she ever slept. Like a shark, she'd stay under as long as possible, tracking her prey. Then, when they got close enough to the murky water, she'd spring, dragging them under, then slitting their throats before they knew what had grabbed them.

That explains the sea monster look, and the fact that she did this at age twelve also goes a long way in explaining her attitude. Remember when I said the Games were a big part of me? Well, that's what that whole creature of the deep thing is for her. She lives by it. I'll see her walking around my house at night, peeking in windows with those freakish yellow eyes. She eats raw fish. I know that she spends almost all of her time at the ocean, but not like Rafe and I do. She swims as deep as she can, somehow managing to stay down for minutes at a time.

Felix once told me that she catches fish by her hands while she's down there. I guess I don't know. I just know that whatever she does, she isn't truly human, and she scares the hell out of me. That is why I really don't want to talk to Felix. I was planning on giving him a sign that says we need a meeting, but of course seeing Ms. Fish-lady changed that. At least until Felix sees me and calls me over. I make my way over to them as slowly as possible, fidgeting under Orica's gaze, which happens to be locked on me. Finally I get to them, hanging close enough to Felix that it borders on slightly creepy.

"Hey," I say. I don't take my eyes off the ground. That stupid mer-thing is still looking at me. I'd flip her off, but it looks like she's filed her teeth into fangs, and I don't want her to bite me. Even if she didn't get my jugular, they look damn yellow and I don't want to catch some kind of disease.

"Finnick, I haven't talked to you for a while," Felix says. Then I see why he called me over. I'm not the only one with news. Well, good thing, too. If he's just calling a meeting, then it'll only take a second.

"Yeah. We really need to talk sometime," I say, saying the words slowly and clearly, making my meaning obvious. He nods.

"Good. Obviously you'll want to be mingling with your friends here, but maybe tomorrow. Mags should be happy to join us as well. I know how badly you've missed her these last weeks." I smile.

"Yes. Perfect. My house at five?"

"Sounds good." Then I start to walk away. Only the psycho fish chick hisses.

"Yeah?" I ask, not bothering to turn around.

"Keep your guard up." I shrug her words off as some kind of stupid threat, even though I can almost feel meaning in them. But what would she say that could have any meaning other than instilling fear in me? None, none at all. I start walking again.

"I'll keep that in mind," I say over my shoulder, then hustle away from her. She scares me, bad. The threat didn't help either. Those things leave my mind pretty quickly, though. I see Rafe walking over to me, well, limping over. I hustle over to stand by him, just as the ceremony starts. Then I just focus on Annie, and for once truly enjoy the speeches that are usually so boring to me. Maybe it's because I spend the whole time gazing into Annie's eyes and I don't hear a single word, but that isn't a problem. I don't want to hear the words of the Capitol.

My head is too busy to listen anyway. It's filled with thoughts about how much I love Annie, how beautiful she is, and how everything is so perfect, so amazing right now. Orica's warning hangs in the back of my head, but I pay no attention to it. There are more important things right now, and I focus on those instead. Is that really so wrong, only looking at the good after so much bad?

Well, it doesn't take me long to realize that it wasn't that smart, that's for sure.


	22. Haunted

A/N- Happy Thanksgiving everyone. Here's my present to you. Hopefully you like it, although I'm not sure. I had trouble writing it, but I hope it turned out okay. Thanx for reading, and I'd appreciate any reviews. Thank you.

* * *

Isn't time a strange thing? You know how a second can warp itself into what seems like an eternity, or can fly by so fast that you can feel every second slipping away, unable to be stopped. And the thing is, time is directly related to what's going on in your life. Just say your life sucks, and every second keeps stretching, longer and longer as it ticks by.

Then, imagine perfection. Imagine spending everyday with a girl who you love more than anything, or a friend that always has your back. Imagine sharing secrets with a little group of rebels, and then seeing smiles spread across their faces, and knowing that you gave out the gift of hope, something that's so scare in the Districts these days that even Victors can't manage to get a hold of it.

That's what the last month has been like for me. Perfection. No letters from Snow, no complications at all. The nightmares have started to go away, and there isn't a single thing that has me down. Rafe won't stop smiling now, since he's started going out with some girl he met at Annie's banquet. Then there's Annie. She still has moments, fits, but most of the time she's fine. Actually, she's more than fine, we're more than fine.

That crazy feeling I got when I saw Annie for the first time since her Victory Tour just never went away. I don't know if it was my trip to the arena, or maybe just knowing that now there isn't really too much left to keep us apart, but now there is no doubt in my mind that I love her. I realized that just the day after the banquet. Since then, for this last month, I've been thinking, deciding, trying to order my thoughts.

I finally decided that if after a month, if there wasn't a single time when I doubted my love for her at all, then I would propose. I mean, there's nothing that I want more than to marry Annie. About a week into the month, I went over to Mags' house to talk to her about it. We discussed some things, like if I'd feel comfortable doing everything that Snow has me do and still marry her, or if I knew we'd have to marry in secret, things like that. I don't care about getting married in secret, but to continue the prostitution thing while married to Annie, that required more thought.

Finally, I decided that I'm not doing anything wrong, nothing I can control anyway. I mean, if my life was on the line, I'd tell Snow to go screw himself. But put Annie there, and really that takes away any choice that I'd have. So since I'm forced into this, even though it's wrong, and even though I feel ruined by all of it, if I'm going to marry Annie anyway, that isn't a reason that I shouldn't. Something so totally out of my control like that shouldn't get in my way.

So I got back to Mags, told her that I wanted to, that I really wanted to. Then she gave me this ring, which is seriously the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. It was her grandmother's, made before the Districts rebelled for the first time. She gave it to her daughter, who gave it to Mags. Mags, since she had no kids for fear of the Games, wanted to give it to me. In her words, she gave it to her son. So not only does that thing have a sapphire the size of my head on it, but it means something to me, making it a million times more special. So, as soon as I get my plan laid out, I'm planning on proposing.

Of course, that wasn't all, though. There was also that rebel meeting that I managed to set up. We did hike up the mountain, me carrying Mags most of the way, and I told them everything Plutarch told me, and about the poisonings that I found out about myself. Then, Felix gave me some other news that a correspondent from Eleven had given them. They say that whenever the time is right, that they're confident that their District will give full support to the rebellion. One district isn't much, especially not a dirt poor one like Eleven, but it's a milestone, the first District to commit to the rebellion. Maybe it isn't official, but it's a start.

And lastly, there's the whole thing with Rafe that I'd mentioned. Right now, all you need to know is that he has a girlfriend. That's all there really is to tell. They talked, they decided they liked each other, and after two weeks Rafe asked her out and she said yes. That's just a small story.

As you've probably figured out, everything that happened in that month was really a small story. There was nothing eventful, and everything seemed so perfect. That's all that I have to say. Now, though, I can feel something else ready to happen.

* * *

Rain collects in puddles everywhere, especially gathering in the usually green grass of Victor's Village, turning the beautiful lawns into what seems like a swampy marsh. As I trek to Mags' house through the mud, getting soaked to the bone by the still pouring rain, my eyes struggle to make out even just the shape of Mags' house. My shoes sink into the muddy ground, turning every step into something that requires effort. Mags wanted me to talk to her about that mentoring thing, and we live right next to each other, so I didn't think the bad weather should deter me from heading over to her house.

It's making me nervous, though, especially not being able to see anything, not being able to hear. Memories of the storm I got caught in during my Games flash through my head, that same terror rising in my chest again. Part of me, a very dominant part of me, goes back in time, starts worrying about what tributes could be stalking me. Then, the little piece of my head that's still in the present remembers that there are still tributes that could be hunting me.

_Keep your guard up_

Orica's words echo through my mind, making a shiver run up my spine. I'd forgotten, I mean completely forgotten about what she said. But in that second, I find them echoing through my head, this messed up paranoia taking hold of me. I try to make my steps more quiet, but there's nothing to stop the mud from slurping every time it lets go of my feet. It's not like the noise is a big deal anyway, since the thunder and pounding rain drowns out everything. It's just instinct. My real problem is getting away if someone decides to jump me, and this weather seems just perfect for blue-skinned humanoids to be stalking their prey in.

It's stupid, I know. She hasn't done anything all month, and I hadn't been paying attention at all. But with the creepy weather and everything, it's just the perfect time for cryptic threats from creepy blue people to come back and haunt you.

Even though I'm just being crazy again, I feel so much better when I find myself on Mags' front porch. I raise my hand to knock on the door, then a flash of yellow catches my eye. My knife is instantly in my hand, and I spin around to face the door, sure that I saw Orica's glowing yellow eyes. It was just the light of Felix's house, barely visible through the rain. Nothing to be scared of. I just stand there, pressed against the door, and let my heart slow down. Then, after one last look around, I put the knife into my pocket and knock on the door.

Mags answers, a small smile on her face, and I immediately relax.

"I'm glad to see that the weather didn't keep you inside," she says. I shrug, trying to look nonchalant just seconds after flipping out at a light bulb.

"Nah, I've gotten used to weather like this," I joke weakly. Mags tilts her head, like maybe using a different angle would help her figure out what's wrong with me. She keeps her mouth shut, though. All she does is stare, then step aside, letting me slip into the warmth and safety of her house.

Mags makes tea, then we sit on her couch and sip at it, not wanting to bring anything that has to do with the Games into casual conversation.

"You won't have to do much," she says finally. "People will be falling over themselves to sponsor your tribute. You know enough about the Games that teaching them shouldn't be difficult. You'll be fine if you don't let yourself get too attached."

"I don't care if I'm attached or not. If you spend a week with a kid and get to know him at all, then watch him get a spear through his gut, it's gonna hurt."

"Yes, it does. But I've been doing it for over sixty years, and I know that you're tougher than I am."

"I'm not-" I start, but she holds up a hand.

"When it comes to the Games, you're tougher than anybody," she says. I know that I can't argue with that, since I came to a conclusion similar to it not too long ago. It still bugs me, seeing how obvious it is that the Hunger Games and I seem to go hand in hand, but the vote of confidence is pretty nice.

We talk a little more, mainly going over the finer things, what exactly you have to do as a mentor, and then it's time for me to venture outside again.

I start out fine, plunking through the mud like I did on the way over. Then, I hear something. Probably some animal or something, but I try to take off. It only takes a couple of hurried steps to send me sliding across the mud. Thunder crashes then, and the sound startles me enough that I throw myself towards my house, not even trying to get up. After that, I'm in such a panicked hurry that I just end up dragging myself through the mud to get to my house. By the time I get there, I'm soaked, filthy, and my nerves are just about shot. I open my door while I'm still on my knees, then tumble through, pulling it shut with me and locking it as soon as possible.

Big mistake.

I feel the eyes on me before I see her. I know that it's her before I even look, before I make the mistake of letting my eyes meet her, of letting myself get sucked into her gaze. I can't look away, I can't think, I can't move. That panic I felt before bubbles up. Usually, in situations like this, there's nothing but pure adrenaline, but something about this chick shuts my brain off, turns me into someone normal for a second.

"I've never known why the ladies of the Capitol were so taken with you up until now, but I guess I've never noticed how entertaining you could be." Her voice is edged with sarcasm, and the ends of her words get chopped off. I wonder if that has something to do with her fangs.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, humiliated to hear my voice shake like a five year old.

"You aren't following orders," she hisses. That's the only way that I can describe her voice.

"What?" I ask, confusion coloring my voice.

"Everything is in place, the axe is ready to fall, and as soon as you make your next move, people will die." I stare at her, trying to get what she's saying to make sense, but I can't.

"I don't get what you're saying?"

"If you don't want more blood on your hands, figure it out." Then she walks past me, flashing her fangs in a deadly smile that makes my knees shake. When she gets to my door, instead of opening it, she pauses. Her long black mane of braids hangs down her head like a dozen thin snakes, making her nearly as intimidating from the back as the front.

"President Snow wants me to ask you how your little Annie is doing? Have the horrors of the Games stopped plaguing her sleep yet?" I lunge at her, my knife out of my pocket in an instant, at her throat the next.

"What are you going to do to Annie?" I hiss. She rolls her yellow eyes, not scared at all. I dig the knife into her neck. She doesn't even seem to notice.

"I'm not doing anything to her," she hisses. "No one is. She's a Victor now, and that makes her a lot less desirable to kill, although it wouldn't be a horrible tragedy." I lower the knife slowly.

"Then what are you talking about?"

"I was merely told to warn you, not to explain. If you don't figure it out, you will suffer the consequences." I don't even feel like I'm talking to a human being. She's more like a hybrid between one of the twisted citizens of the Capitol and a snake. It seems like she could be Snow's daughter.

"Don't you care what happens to me at all?" I ask through gritted teeth. She laughs.

"What do you have to offer me, Boy? Nothing more than you offer to the women of the Capitol, and both of us know that it will never be enough if you keep shunning your role. The President, the Capitol temp me much more than you ever could."

I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself down, but I swear that I start seeing red. It's one thing when President Snow or some Capitol freak does things like this, but another Victor? That's different. It's worse. I guess that's what happens when you start worshipping a psychopathic twelve year old. She'll follow, and it wouldn't be too hard at all to turn her into just another on of Snow's pawns.

"You're a filthy piece of shit," I spit at her. She laughs, then walks out my door, slamming it behind her. I stand there, seething. Something's going to happen, and I have no idea what it is, and I'm scared out of my mind because I don't even know what I have to not do. That night, bright yellow eyes haunt my sleep, and the hissing of a serpent makes beautiful background music.

* * *

The sun shines the next morning for the first time in days, and I take that as an omen. Not only does the beautiful day improve my mood, but it also gives me an opening for my proposal. I wanted to do it outside, at the beach, but of course the rain would've ruined that. But now, even though everything is still wet, the beach is going to be beautiful, and if we walk far enough away from town, I should be able to do it secretly, which is a necessity.

I take extra time getting ready that morning, for once actually caring what I look like. I make sure that every hair is in the right place, that I have the perfect outfit. Rafe's voice sounds in my head, calling me a girl and a sissy, but I don't care. This is important to me. Important enough that I actually kneel down and say a quick prayer to the God that Mags actually believe in. I sort of do it for good measure, but I figure that if there is someone up there watching me, that maybe if I ask nicely he'll throw me a bone.

So, I'm all prettied up and rearing to go, but I can't make myself move. Last night hovers in the back of my mind, playing over again and again, but I can't make anything fall into place. I don't try to hard, either. After ten minutes, I force myself to let it go, then slowly make my way out the door and walk across the village, growing easier with every step. I spit on Orica's lawn. Not smart, but I want to show how not nervous I am. Because I'm not.

Annie answers the door, her lips curving up into a smile when she sees that it's me. My heart starts beating faster and I find a smile of my own spreading across my face. It gets even better when she gets on her tiptoes and gives me a quick kiss on the cheek.

"You're beautiful, you know that, right?" I ask her. She just shakes her head.

"Have you looked in the mirror lately?" She stole that from me. Whenever she said something like that me, that'd always be my response. Now, we've sort of switched roles.

"You're just too modest," I tell her, then I take her hand. "We should go on a walk."

"That would be nice," she says. So we start walking, hand in hand, like we're a couple of second graders playing husband and wife in a game of house.

We talk some, but it's mainly quiet. That's what it's almost like with Annie and me. We don't need to talk, not really. We know each other well enough that we can already guess what the other will say.

Eventually, I decide that we get far enough away. I pretend to trip and stumble, eventually falling into the damp sand. As soon as I touch the ground, I take the ring's box out of my pocket and hide it under my leg. Annie rushes forward, her mouth pressed into a tight line to keep from laughing. Her eyes are gleaming so beautifully that I almost forget what I'm doing. I don't, though.

"Are you okay?" she asks sweetly.

"I'm fine, but I think I lost something," I tell her, fumbling around a little. "Maybe it's over there, do you think you could look?" I ask her, pointing to a spot right in front of me. She looks confused, like she's wondering why I can't get it, but she listens. She crouches to the ground and starts searching through the sand. Then I grab the box and get on one knee.

"Hey, Annie," I whisper. "I think I found it." Then she looks up, her eyes getting huge. The waves crash in the background, the melody of seagull filling the air. I can taste the salt from the ocean on my tongue, and the smell fills my nose. Everything around me screams the ocean, yet, none at it compares at all to Annie's eyes. I can drown in them so much more easily than in even the strongest of waves, and that's what it feels like right now. Like they're just going to pull me under and never let me up. Really, that's okay with me.

"You aren't serious," she whispers. I open the box, revealing the beautiful ring that Mags gave me.

"Annie Cresta," I breathe, "will you marry me?" She doesn't hesitate at all, just wraps her arms around me and kisses me so warmly that I feel like my entire body could just melt into a puddle right there. Anything from the night before is gone, replaced by a feeling that I've never felt before. The euphoria I got from winning the Games, maybe even from getting a kill, times a hundred and minus any horrible side affects. Just pure, unbreakable happiness.

On the way back, I explain my plans, about how we'll have to do it in secret, about how very few people can know, and I explain to her perfectly clearly that I still have to go to the Capitol. She listens silently, and by the time we're home, I'm almost sure that she had to have changed her mind. Instead, she twists the ring around on her finger and faces me.

"Finnick," she says softly. "I just want to be with you." With that, I kissed her one more time, and I figured that the deal was done. The life I wanted was becoming so crystal clear. I could almost taste it.

* * *

Then, late that night, someone rang my doorbell. When I opened it, nothing was there except for a box. I took it carefully inside, holding it carefully, my paranoia returning a little. I mean, a box in the middle of the night? Not good, not at all.

I carefully break through the tape, then pull the tabs up. An envelope sits on top of a load of tissue paper, so I grab that first. When I see that it's sealed with red wax, I'm tempted to throw the box out. The only letters I've seen sealed like that are President Snow's. Then I realize that there's no way I should throw something away, not when it could be an invitation that could cause someone's death if I don't follow through. So I open the envelope and take out a small slip of paper.

_Here's an early wedding present. _

My heart sinks. He knows. And if he knows… I carefully start taking the tissue paper off of whatever is in the box. Then there's a plastic bag. I pick up the bag, my heart beating, trying to tell myself that it isn't what it feels like, that Snow wouldn't possibly do anything like that. I open the bag, afraid to look at what I know is in there.

I don't scream. I work to hold down my supper, but I don't scream. I don't move at all, really. I can't look away from my wedding present.

Snow found out about my wedding.

And God, did he give me a present.

He even sent it right to me.

It's nothing compared to what he could've done. Just a warning. Yet, one of the worst warnings I can imagine.

I think I finally figured out what Orica was warning me against. I wasn't supposed to propose. She was watching me, she knew I was going to do it. She told Snow. Snow told her to warn me, because he doesn't want to make his precious toy too unhappy. But her warning didn't get through. So I proposed to Annie, and for a couple hours, I was happier than I'd even been in my entire life.

Now, tears are welling up in my throat, my vision is doing that thing where it turns red again, and my stomach is churning enough that I have no idea how I'm managing not to throw up.

I should run away. Get rid of it. Do something. Yet, I can't. My feet are glued to the ground, my eyes fixed on the matching sea green eyes in front of me. The beautiful, beautiful eyes.

My mother's eyes.

In her head.

On my kitchen table.


	23. Cleaning Up a Mess

A/N- Thank you so much for the awesome reviews, I'm so glad that you liked the chapter. As always, I hope that you like this one too, and please review so that I know what you think. Thanks.

* * *

As soon as I manage to tear myself away from those eyes, I make my way over to the phone in some kind of stupor. First, I call Mags.

"Are you awake?" I ask, not even bothering with any kind of greeting. I mean, why would I? That'd just be an amazing conversation. "Oh, hello, it's nice to talk to you. And by the way, can you come over here? I need your help dealing with my mother's decapitated head."

"Finnick?" she asks groggily.

"Yeah, is there any chance you could come over? I need your help."

"I'll be over there as quickly as I can," she says, then hangs up the phone. That helps me wake up a little bit, knowing that she's here for me, that she doesn't even need to ask questions before she comes to help me. The only thing is that as soon as the fog evaporates from my brain, I realize what else I have to do. I pick up the phone again, and this time I dial the number that President Snow gave me if I ever wanted to contact him.

Some attendant answers, saying that the president is asleep. I tell her who I am, and she starts to say that she still won't wake him up, but her voice trails off at the end of the sentence. There's some mumbling in the background, and she says that he's right there. He was probably waiting to hear from me, waiting to revel in what he's done this time.

"What could possess you to call me at this hour?" he asks, his slimy voice loaded with false ignorance. I want to cuss him out, to scream death threats at him, to tell him that his precious Capitol isn't as safe as he thinks it is. But I can't. Not if I don't want another head to arrive in the mail.

"Well, I just received a package from you, a very generous present." Nothing in the world could keep the anger from reverberating through my voice, even if I'm worried that Snow will use that as an excuse to wipe out someone else. He has a convenient gift for ignoring things like that, however, and he carries on the conversation like he thought I really believed it was a generous present.

"Oh yes, that. I take it that you appreciate it very dearly and wish to thank me."

"I guess I could thank you, but I'm truly just wondering why a powerful man such as yourself would ever send someone like me such amazing gift. Really, that's all I want, is an explanation. I need to know what to do in the future to deserve your generosity." I hear Mags knock on the door.

"Well, you didn't use your head very well, and you made a move that I was all too thrilled to hear about. Maybe you would appreciate it if I would lay out a very clear set of circumstances that would require more gifts in the future."

"That would be nice."

"I'll send a train for you tomorrow at ten, and I will meet with you in my office." Then, before I can argue that I didn't mean that, he hangs up. I slam the phone down, then run to open the door for Mags.

"Are you okay?" she asks me. I shake my head, then look behind me, at the head that's still sitting on my table. The worry on her face turns to shock, then horror.

"I'm assuming that pile of fish shit has been spying on me. I know that she told Snow about Annie and me, and he did this," I say quietly, levelly, barely keeping my voice from falling apart.

She doesn't say anything, just pulls her arms around me and holds me close, silently telling me that she's here for me.

I still don't cry. I hadn't seen my mother in years, and even then, I didn't like her much anyway. It's horrible, but there are very few people left that can die and make me truly sad. My mother isn't one of them. Rafe, Annie, and Mags are the only people I care about. Snow knows that. He knows that this is just a show of his power, and I think that's what the biggest tragedy in all of this is, at least to me. He killed someone to show me he could. A total waste of life, just to prove a point. To me. Because of me. Daisy is eight now, and she won't have a mother, or really even a father. Because of me. My fault.

"How many is that now?" I whisper to Mags. "How many people have I killed?" She shakes her head softly and puts a hand on my shoulder.

"This isn't your fault. Remember what I told you after your first Games, who I told you to blame after you were upset?" she asks. Yeah, the Capitol. The thing is, though, that I knew that Snow would retaliate if he found out about the engagement, and I knew that I cannot keep anything from him. Yet, I still proposed.

"Whatever. What are we going to do with it?" I ask. I don't want to talk about who's fault it is, because I know that I'll blame myself, and Mags will feed me crap about how it wasn't me.

"I think that you should tell your father. I'll contact the Peacekeepers and they can figure out what to do with the head." That's when I get scared. The prospect of going to my father and basically admitting to killing my mother terrifies me. Not only am I scared of what he'll actually do to me, but I'm worried about the impact that it'll have on him and Daisy.

Telling him that I broke a vase? That's fine. I would've gotten slapped in the head and cussed out, but he wouldn't have really been too upset. This is going to kill him, though, and I don't know if I can stand that.

I wonder if he already knows she's dead. That head isn't old. Maybe he's sitting around, worrying about where she is right now, hoping she'll come home soon. Maybe he's thinking she ran away and left him with Daisy. I just know that he won't be expecting this.

"You want me to tell him?" I ask.

"It would only be right."

"I haven't spoken a word to them for years. I'm not supposed to get near Daisy. My father thinks I'm the devil incarnate."

"Finnick," she says. "This is going to be hard enough on him, don't make it harder by having a Peacekeeper give him the news."

"I'll go," I whisper. "But I don't like it."

* * *

I leave right away. Things like this can't wait. The rain has started again, drizzling on my head, making strands of hair stick to my face. I should drive. The house is two miles away, but I run instead. I don't want to rumble up in my shiny new car, one of the only ones in the district. It seems like it'd be rubbing my wealth and status in my father's face. I don't know why. It just feels wrong.

Running through the rain, saturating the bottoms of my pants with mud, and soaking myself with rain, seems so much more appropriate. Maybe, I hope, I won't seem so much like a Victor then. Maybe, they could see that I'm still Finnick. Like my father liked Finnick anyway.

I run as fast as I can, until my lungs struggle for breath and my legs start burning. Rain streams down my face like the tears that I probably should have. I crash through mud puddles in the dark, stumbling along, sending water spraying everywhere.

When I finally arrive at the doorstep of the house I grew up in, I pause, taking my time to walk up the porch steps, to catch my breath. Then. I knock on the door. I immediately curse myself for being stupid, because of course there's no way anyone would hear a knock at three in the morning. Only I hear someone shuffling around immediately, and my father comes to the door in just seconds.

The relief on his face, no doubt reserved for who he thought was his wife, turns into confusion when he sees me.

"Who the hell are you?" he asks softly. I'm sure he's joking at first, then I realize that he may not recognize me. Whenever I'm on tv, my face is covered in makeup, my wardrobe specifically designed for me, my hair perfectly cut. Not a single one of those things would apply to my appearance right now. My father has no idea who I am. I swallow hard.

"Finnick Odair," I tell him. My voice is husky and hollow, and the words barely make it out of my throat. I don't want to do this. Not at all.

My father's eyes grow wide, his jaw dropping just slightly. He starts to say something, stops. Then he just stares.

"Finnick," he finally says softly, then he blinks, and the surprise wears off, his natural look returning to his face. "What are you doing here?" he asks, now clearly pissed off, just the way I remember.

"I-" I start, then clear my throat. I can't get the words out. "Is it okay if I come inside? I need to talk to you."

"I don't know, Daisy is sleeping, and your mother wouldn't want-" I close my eyes, trying to detach myself from how horrible this is going to be.

"I need to talk to you about Mom," I tell him. The annoyance on his face immediately changes to extreme wariness.

"What did you do to her?" he snaps. I want to argue, but he's right. I did do something to her.

"Dad, I really think we should go inside." He grabs me by the front of my shirt, almost picking me up.

"Tell me what the fuck you did to her?" he snaps. I reach into my pocket and take out my knife, raising it so that he can see it. He immediately tries to knock it away, and I use the opportunity to wriggle out of his grasp, then get the knife out of his reach, and back him against the door, in an identical position to what I had Orica in just a night ago.

"I said that we should go inside," I spit. I feel bad, I really do, but that's how I know how to handle things. I'm not going to tell him that I got his wife's head in a cardboard box on the front porch, no matter how necessary he thinks it is. Negotiations take too much time, so this is the only way that I can see to get my father inside. If the only downside is that the fear on my dad's face stings a little, then holding a knife to his neck is an option I am willing to take.

"Yes, let's go inside," he chokes out. I lower my knife.

"Lead the way. It isn't my house anymore," I tell him. Then I swear, I swear to God, that there's a flash of regret in his eyes. It passes instantly, but seeing it there pisses me off. He has no right to be able to kick me out, sever all connections with me, and then get all guilty right before I'm going to tell him something that's going to make him hate me.

He leads me inside, not looking at me at all. I look around the house, breathing in the smell, finding little things that I remember from the last time I've been in there, right before the Games. Then, my father looks at me, and the nostalgia fades completely, turning into the worst kind of horror possible.

"What happened to my wife?" he asks me. I notice that since I pulled the knife, he doesn't ask me what I did to her. Talk about a chicken.

"About an hour ago, someone rang my doorbell. When I opened it, all that I found was a box." I pause, trying to collect my thoughts, trying to figure out how to say what I need to say.

"Who sent the box?"

"It was unmarked," I answer, knowing that it'd do no good to blame President Snow. Then, someone else would just die.

"And what does this box have to do with my wife?" I take a deep breath.

"I opened the box," I choke out. I pause for another second. It feels like the words I should be saying are getting stuck in my throat.

My father's eyes urge me on, even as his face clouds with worry. I take another deep breath.

"Mom's head was inside." The words rush out in a garble, almost like I threw them up. I have no idea how he understands them, but it's obvious that he gets the message. My father stares at me again, except this time it's in disbelief.

"Are you playing some kind of sick joke?" he asks, except by the look on his face, I know that he doesn't believe that for a second. I can't answer his question, though. I can't talk that well. I get up immediately, trying to get out of there before I can catch too much crap, or even worse, before he starts crying. Because if he starts crying, I'll probably start crying, too, just because my father doesn't cry.

"I should go," I mumble, even though I doubt he can understand me.

My dad says nothing, so I just leave. I've done everything that I have to, that I was supposed to. There's no reason for me to stay. So I walk away, after giving my father the worst news he's probably ever heard. I don't try to console him. I tell him that I find his wife's head in a box, and then I leave.

Maybe they're right, thinking that I'm not a good person.

* * *

My next stop is Annie's house. Not only do I have to tell her that our engagement is off, but I'm also giving her news that I'm taking an unexpected trip to the Capitol. Not suspicious at all right there, especially given my clean history during my trips to the Capitol.

Annie isn't sleeping when I get there, but that doesn't surprise me. She rarely sleeps through the whole night. When I sneak in the door, not wanting to knock for fear of waking her parents, she's pacing around, hugging herself tightly. As soon as she sees me, she runs over and throws her arms around me, not thinking that it's at all odd for me to come over at four in the morning.

"Are you okay?" I ask her, trying to get a good look at her eyes. I can usually tell if she's having a fit by the way her eyes start darting around. They focus on me right away, though.

"Yes, but you aren't," she answers, running her fingers through my wet hair. "You've been running."

"I was bored," I say simply. I don't like lying to her, but she doesn't need to know about the head. "And no, I'm really not okay."

"What's wrong?" she asks, clinging to me a little more tightly. Her beautiful eyes are darkened by worry.

"I got a call from the president," I tell her. I doubt that Snow would care that I lie about that, seeing as I'm calling off the engagement, which is all he wanted.

"About what?" she asks, now getting nervous.

"He wants me to go to the Capitol tomorrow."

"Why?" The word Capitol is like a trigger for one of her fits to start. I can feel her losing it a little bit. Her shoulders start shaking, her eyes starting to look around, like even just saying the word will send Peacekeepers swarming to her house.

"He wants to talk to me about our engagement," I tell her. She squeezes her eyes shut, like she's trying to will something good to come out of this.

"He doesn't like it, does he?" she asks with a forced composure.

"I don't think so," I say, burying my face in her hair. "I really don't think so."

"Why can't he leave you alone?" she breathes, the words so soft that there's no way any bugs could possibly pick them up. I hardly hear them myself.

"I wish I knew," I whisper. Then I kiss the top of her head before stepping back. "You know that I still love you, right?" She puts her hands on my shoulders, standing on her tiptoes.

"I'd never doubt it." She tilts her head up then, and her lips find mine. I feel myself relax, everything from this past night leaving my mind, even if it's just for a minute. No matter what happens, as long as I still have Annie, I'll be able to live through it, to deal with it.

* * *

I keep reminding myself of that the next day, sitting on the train, listening to some stupid attendant bitch to me about how uncomfortable her shoes are. I don't know why she thinks that I'd care, but she won't shut up. I want to cuss her out, ask her if she'd like me to cut off her mother's head and give it to her as a wedding gift, but I don't think that Snow would be happy with that. Still, it's pathetic how people from the Capitol won't shut up about things that no one gives a shit about, "tragedies" that don't affect their lives in even the slightest way, while some many people from the districts are forced to keep their mouths shut about things that cost people their lives.

"Why don't you just buy more comfortable shoes?" I finally snap at her. She jumps a little.

"But these are so much more fashionable," she says, then walks off in a huff, like she's mad at me for even suggesting comfortable shoes. I don't regret it too much, because it gives me a chance to sleep the rest of the way. I got absolutely none after that whole thing last night. By the time I got back from Annie's it was almost five, and then Mags and I had to make up a nice story to explain the head to the Peacekeepers. Their interrogations took another hour, and by then it was too late to even try to sleep.

I still can't get to sleep now, anyway. That stupid head only leaves my mind when Orica stomps in to take over, her satanic eyes gleaming at me.

Yeah, not very happy stuff to see once you close your eyes. I give up sleep pretty quick, settling for watching a rerun of the first quarter quell until the train pulls into the Capitol.


	24. Roses and Blood

A/N- I'm sorry that it's so short, but there weren't any other scenes that I wanted to add to this part. This is really to give answers and tie up this part of the stoy before I start taking in a slightly different direction. I'll probably update later tonight or early tomorrow to make up for how short it is, though. Thank you for reading, and please review.

* * *

I am taken directly to the President's Mansion, and even given an escort to lead me to his office. Everything in that building makes me sick. The air smells of roses, but far more potently than could be natural. The sickly sweat smell clogs the air, making me dread each breath. The walls, which are painted a brilliant crimson, almost look blood-stained to me. Snow probably took the bodies of children from the Hunger Games and used their blood to paint them. Worst of all, however, are the paintings that adorn his walls. They are scenes from Games of the past, immortalized. I catch a glimpse of myself, basically depicted as some kind of God, with my trident raised above the girl from Seven. Her fiery red hair makes a halo around her face, just like I remembered, even though the horror on her face is grossly exaggerated. She wasn't scared at all. I remember that clearly. She was sure she could win up until the very last moment.

The thing is, though, that picture doesn't bother me as much as others. After heading down a few hallways, I figure that all the pictures depict the last scene of the Games, the final kill. Mine, compared to others, wasn't bad. There's one of a girl with another tributes head lying at her feet. Right now, that one bothers me the worst. Then I see one with Mags' name on it. It's completely innocent, you couldn't tell it was from the Games at all. She's perched in the tree, a small smile on her face, as she watches a boy, more than twice her size, taking a bag of berries out from his bag. In his hand are a half dozen or so blueberries, and then two other ones that are eerily similar. Nightlock.

"Mr. Odair?" my attendant asks me. He's standing in front of me, waiting for me to follow him. I'm tempted to tell him to learn some patience, but Snow wouldn't like that at all. I can't be portrayed as a mean grouch, can I now? So, I force myself to tear my gaze away from the painting and walk down the last corridor to the President's main office.

The first thing that hits me is the smell. The stench of roses are multiplied times ten, and I almost gag. I start to give the president some smart ass remark about his perfume, but I stop short when I actually look into the room. The last time I spoke to him, it was in the remake center, where I stayed my first trip to the Capitol. Now, I'm in his true office, and I wish I were anywhere else. There are more portraits on his walls, still of the Games. This time, however, it has to be the bloodiest, most brutal scenes in Games history. These ones do hurt me.

The one that I see first almost kills me, and I know that my nightmares wil probably start reflecting the brutal scene once again. Titus is standing above Kyra's dead body, with her heart in his mouth, his hands and face dripped with her blood. I look away as quickly as possible, now seeing a painting of a blonde haired girl with a bird's long beak through her throat, blood dripping down her neck, her still eyes opened in horror. As soon as I look away from that one, I see something that's almost more disgusting than the first in a way. A tribute's face is the main focus, his head bashed in, another tribute visible standing over him, bits of gore on the spikes of his mace. Those are only a few of the pictures that keep our great president company. I do my best to look away.

"I see that you're quite taken with my portraits," Snow says when he sees my face.

"Why?" I ask him, the word coming out almost like I'm in awe. I basically am. This man, with his ability to relish in other people's suffering, has a talent that makes me feel very small and very vulnerable.

"I need some things to keep me company during my tedious hours at work," he replies.

"That's sick." He smiles, like I've given him a huge compliment.

"I realize that some people may not share my tastes in fine art. That isn't why you care here, however, is it?"

"Why did you kill my mother?" I ask him, not bothering with small talk.

"Because, dear Finnick, you went against my wishes."

"When did you ever say that I couldn't get engaged to Annie?" He chuckles.

"That, I assumed, you could figure out by yourself. I had no idea how thickheaded you were, and I'm sorry for not making myself more clear." Truly sorry, I bet.

"You could've warned me." He chuckles softly.

"Oh, but Finnick, I did. You simply ignored them."

"You can't tell me that you expected me to have any idea what Orica was talking about."

"Well, maybe she wasn't completely clear. The thing is, however, that you should have known better. A proposal, really Finnick," he says in a very condescending tone. It's like he thinks that I'm just a stupid chit while he's the master of the universe.

"No one was going to find out. I was going to continue working for you without a word."

"That is your first mistake," he says, "trying to do something behind my back. Your second is assuming that just because you were going to do it in secret means that no one is going to find out. Someone would've figured it out, eventually, and that wouldn't have turned out well. The Capitol's golden boy can't have a wife, can he now?" Snow pushes himself out of his chair, standing with some discomfort. I have to wonder if it's that poison he's had to drink, slowly eating his body away. I have to hope. Maybe he'll die. That'd make the war a lot easier.

"No one would've found out," I tell him. He strolls over to me leisurely, a small smirk on his face.

"You must know how I hate to take risks. Too much hassle, really. I don't understand why you're so surprised. I thought that you knew me better than that," he says, his snake-like eyes looking up at me innocently. I have to look away so I'm not tempted to claw those eyes out of his head. He's right, though. I should have known better. He's a filthy shit ball. What else could I expect from a man who hangs portraits of kids dying in his office?

"Are there any other "rules" that I should know about?" I ask him.

"There is only one rule, and you know it. Keep the women of the Capitol happy, and you will be happy. You know very well that hearing of your engagement would definitely not make any of those lovely ladies happy."

"Okay. I got that, I know that now, I knew it then."

"You just didn't expect to get caught," Snow says. He takes a step closer to me, and I have to work not to step away.

"How did you catch me?" I ask him. I'm pretty sure I know, but I want a confirmation.

"Let's just say that I was nervous after I picked up on you talking to your dearest Mags, so I generously had Orica warn you, then told her to keep an eye on you. She did her job well," he says. I would be more angry if I hadn't already suspected something like that. It still pisses me off that another Victor would do something like that, though. I guess when that kind of brainwashing starts at age twelve, it's hard to have a mind of your own.

"That chick always creeped me out," I tell him, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing anything similar to the sting of betrayal, or even anger.

"Many people in the Capitol would consider her beautiful. I was even thinking of asking her to keep you company during your next real visit," he says. I take a deep breath, forcing myself to remain calm. Well, and not throw up. I've been wish messed up chicks, but there is no way that Orica is going to lay a hand on me.

"I don't believe that mating outside the species is appropriate," I tell him, trying to detach my tone as much as possible. If he knows how grossed out I am, he'd force me to do it. Thank God he doesn't. Instead, he nods.

"True, true, true. It wouldn't be good for your image, anyway," he says. "Victors from other Districts are cute together, but there would be way too many questions if you were seen with a Victor from your own District."

"Of course. We wouldn't want anyone thinking that there's anything real between us," I say, trying not to laugh at how fucked up all of this is. It's weird, I think, how this could make me want to laugh. Maybe it's beause crying would be the other option, and laughing is so much easier.

Snow takes another step closer to me, so that we're way too close for casual conversation. I'm sort of freaked out.

"Yes, I do believe that you realize that by now." He lifts his hand and looks at his watch like he has an appointment soon. "Is there anything else you need?" He's close enough to me now that the smell of blood on his breath is gag inducing. I'm forced to take a step back, much to his pleasure.

I almost like to think that he smells like the blood of all the innocent children that stains his soul. Not that there's anything wrong with him poisoning himself, actually that's very amusing. It's just that imagining those kids that he killed still affecting him, even like that, would be nice. I mean, there's been seventeen years of Games since he rose to power, which means that almost four hundred kids have died because of him. Then add on the hundreds that die of starvation or illness in the poorer Districts, and the people that he's killed for other reasons, and that total is in the thousands. Yet, it seems like he doesn't care whatsoever.

Maybe it's just all the practice. My first kill hurt. Then it gradually got easier. At least at first, I guess. I still have nightmares, though, and a lot of them are from the people I killed. I still think about their families sometimes, what kind of life they had before I took it away. I doubt that Snow ever does that.

"Do you ever see them in your dreams?" I ask Snow, nodding towards the paintings. He bursts into laughter, then waves me out of his office, still laughing like I just told him a hilarious joke. I can't be sure if he thinks that the concept of having dreams about them is funny, or if he was just trying to cover something up. I settle on the first answer. Seriously, Snow showing any sign of guilt? Yeah, right.


	25. Mentoring

A/N- These next few chapters are going to go pretty in-depth for the 71st Hunger Games, since there are important events related to them. I'm sorry if you think I'm taking it too slow, but I don't want to miss important details. Please read and review. Thank you.

Finnick- 20, Annie- 17

* * *

To say that the Reaping came quickly after my talk with Snow would be like saying that Snow has minor anger issues. It's like I just blinked the second that I got back from the Capitol, and then when my eyes open again it's Reaping Day.

In some ways, I have to say that it's better than most for me. There's no one that I know who can be thrown into the 71st Hunger Games. My friends and family are safe. Yet, it's also so much worse. I have to mentor, as well as continue doing my job for President Snow. I guess that may be a good thing, though. Maybe I can persuade some rich bitch to give my kid some food or something. I don't know. I just know that this sucks.

As usual, I get to sit on a stage, even though it feels strangely empty. I've sat by Borglum the past four years. Now, no Borglum. Eliza is gone too. In their absence, or maybe it's just in light of some of the more recent events, Orica's presence is freakishly strong. She's watching me too, I can feel it. It's worse because I'm sitting across the stage from Annie. It was just arranged like that. I'm guessing so that no rumors would start or something. At least they let me sit between Mags and Felix, though. If whoever set this thing up had me beside Orica, there would've been blood.

Going with tradition, Mayor Winthrop goes through the Treaty of Treason in his nasally drone that puts my ears in danger of bleeding. That's another unwelcome change. Every time that I even glance at that stupid punk I get the urge to go over there and bash his face in. I know that he didn't drop those spores, but even just being connected with the memory taints his image. If you combine that with the fact that he's one of Snow's pawns, you get a disgusting creep that I'd very much enjoy using as a punching bag.

While I'm working on tuning out Pea-Brain's voice, I make the mistake of looking at the crowd of kids, gathered in the Town Square like a herd of cattle. That's sort of accurate, in my opinion. It's like a cattle sale almost. Only it doesn't matter if the ones that you buy are the biggest or best. You just deal with what you get, try to put some weight on them, then drop them off at the butcher.

Even though that's a decent comparison, I know that it is different, though. I know by the way that my heart sinks every time I meet the eyes of one of those kids, and I see the sheer terror there. It doesn't help that I know exactly how well founded that terror is. There's a good chance that the kids that are sent into that arena will die. If they don't die, their lives will be changed forever, and not in a good way either.

I wonder which of one those kids I'll get to know. I wonder which one I'll be responsible for. Which one that I'm going to watch die. I immediately look away from the crowd.

Mayor Winthrop thankfully finishes his speech just a second later. As soon as he's done speaking, a hush falls over the entire town. Even the seagulls know something's up, because their ceaseless cries seem to evaporate into thin air. If you listen closely, you can hear the waves crashing onto the beach, but nothing else.

"Ladies first," Alva says. At the moment, she's the only enthusiastic person in the district. I'm sure that after the betters see the tributes, they'll get pumped up if there's a good one, but right now they're as silent as everyone else, probably praying for a strong tribute.

Alva picks her way across the stage in her heels until she's right in front of the girl's ball. She fishes around for a slip of paper and reads a name out loud.

"Amana Voda," she reads. Even though I knew that there was no one I really knew in the Reaping, I relax. It's just a habit.

One of the biggest girls in the crowd struts up to the stage, and everyone goes wild. A big tribute. I don't know what they're thrilled about. I can immediately tell that she's not going to survive. She's too cocky, probably a spoiled brat. Her build says that she's well fed, and her long blonde hair flows down her back in a shining cascade, meaning that she gets showers at least every other day, a sign that she's rich.

Even worse are the things that she's lacking. More than anything, she has no control. As soon as she's on that stage, she looks at me and smiles, almost like she was born in the Capitol. Then there's the absence of the traits a victor needs. She doesn't have any cleverness in her eyes like Eliza, and anyone that's that cocky wouldn't have Annie's attention to detail. She may look good to the crowds, but anyone who's been through the Games knows that she doesn't stand a prayer.

After the crowd dies down, Alva walks over to the guy's ball and sticks her hand in to find the slip.

"Adair Cade." Another random name that I care nothing about.

He's bigger too, but still smaller than I am, and younger than a lot of people would prefer. I'd guess fifteen I think. Unlike the other girl, I know that this boy has some intangibles. You can tell that he's scared, which is a good thing. If a tribute goes up there knowing he'll win, he'll get himself killed. Instead, he's slightly hesitant, but he doesn't break down. That's a good thing. He'll listen to what his mentor has to say. He'll be cautious. By no means do I think he can win, but he has a better chance than Amana.

The rest of the Reaping is done in a flash, and the victors start to disperse. Some of the crowd celebrates, while friends and family of the tributes head to the Justice Building as quickly as possible to give their loved ones their final good-byes. I find Annie, just giving her a quick hug, not daring to do more. Then Mags and I are ushered off to the train station. We're required to do interviews about what we expect from our tributes. I follow Mags' example, just giving general answers. I have to answer a few more questions about my first year of mentoring, and then we board the train for the Capitol.

Mags pulls me aside right away to start explaining things to me.

"First, the most important thing, is which tribute you're going to mentor."

"And how do you decide that?"

"Which do you think will benefit from you the most?" The girl. I could teach her a few things. I know that. Mags knows that. But I don't want her. She looks like a bitch, she's already flirted with me, and she's going to die for sure. Yet, I couldn't give Adair anything. I'm sure there's advice to give, but none that I would know. Mags would be able to help him, though.

"I know what you're thinking, but I can not mentor Amana. She has a crush on me. Did you see her look at me right after she was picked? That isn't right." Mags chuckles.

"Yes, I did notice that. But did you also notice how similar you were to her during your Games?"

"I was fourteen," I protest. "She's almost the age I am now. She's been like that too long to get talked out of it." Mags shakes his head.

"At least try. Maybe if you talk a while, you'll rub off on her some."

"Yeah. I'll talk to her. Then I'll get to know her, and we'll become friends. Then I'll see her face get pounded in with a mace." Mags puts a hand on my arm.

"Sometimes you have to make a sacrifice to give them the best chance possible to win." I close my eyes, knowing that she's right. She puts a hand on my arm, then. "You're strong. You'll be fine, Finnick. But let me warn you, if she won't listen to you, if you know that she can't win, keep your distance."

"I remember you telling me that. Your rule." She smiles.

"Yes. That doesn't mean I don't want you to try though."

"So I'm stuck with her?" I ask, now that it sounds final. I love how she made it sound like I was getting some sort of choice, yet gives me basically one option.

"You could help her more than I could. She would relate to you better."

"So would the boy," I answer.

"Do you know him?" she asks.

"No. And you do?"

"I know his father. His family is poor, he has seven siblings, and he's worked for your father for a very long time. Not only has he grown to hate your family, but he's already been taught most of the things that you would know to teach him." I stare at her in surprise.

"Let me guess, you know all about Amana too, and she'll be perfect for me." She shakes her head.

"I know very little about her. I spend my time helping, getting to know the poor, not the wealthy."

"But you still assume I would be able to help her."

"We all have to do things that we don't want to do, you should know that by now," she says. I don't like it. I'm actually mad at her, because I really don't want to deal with Amana. She looks like a bitch, and I cannot stand girls like that.

"I don't like it."

"But you'll do it." I purse my lips.

"I will, but if she makes a move on me, I'm not guaranteeing her safety."

"You have a reputation," she reminds me gently.

"She isn't Capitol enough for me," is my response. I leave Mags after that and head to my room.

Just minutes later, Alva comes to get me for dinner. Because it's appropriate, I sit down by Amana. Adair isn't there yet, and neither is Mags. When Alva goes to fetch them, I'm left completely alone with Amana, which I am not comfortable with.

"Hello Finnick," she says with a smile, batting eyelashes so long that they brush her cheeks. For the first time I notice that her eyes aren't actually blue, but instead a strange violet color.

"Your name is Amana?" I ask, even though I know. I don't want to start out talking like we're already close friends. It'd just be too weird.

"Shouldn't you have figured that out by now?" she asks me, letting her smile get bigger, revealing straight white teeth. "Haven't you been talking about me?" I wonder if she's a narcissist, like to the point of a mental condition. It sure seems like that right now, unless she's only pretending to think that the entire world revolves around her.

"We've been talking about both you and the boy tribute."

"And what have you been calling us, if not our names?" She turns a little, letting her knee press against mine. I resist the urge to move away. I guess it's just a habit, not to move. I could. She isn't one of the president's whores.

"The boy and the girl," I answer, even if it isn't completely true. Maybe it'll bring her down to earth. Maybe.

"The girl?" she asks. "Doesn't that make me sound like a child? I'm almost as old as you are," she says. I roll my eyes.

"Actual age is irrelevant once you've made it through the Games." She isn't thrilled with that answer, but she doesn't let herself get discouraged.

"So when I get out of the arena I'll be older and wiser?" she asks. I don't know why I say what I do next, but it slips out before I really think about it. I know what I'm saying, and I know that I don't want to, but the words just fall from my lips like a waterfall.

"Most likely, when get out of the arena, you'll be in a body bag, probably covered in blood. That is, unless someone decides to bash your head in with a club. Then your head will be soft and mushy. But don't worry, I'll fix your hair before the funeral." She stares at me, her violet eyes filled with hurt and horror. I open my mouth to say something, but she gets up from the table in a huff and runs to her room. Mags walks in at just that second, looking around for Amana.

"Shit, I'll be right back," I mutter, getting up from the table. I hurry away from the room, then call an attendant to direct me to where Amana is staying. I knock on the door softly, but no one answers. I test the knob, surprised to find it left unlocked.

She's sitting on her bed, her face buried in her hands. She jolts straight up when she sees me, and I feel my stomach twist when I see tears running down her cheeks. I made her cry. Great. Here I am, getting totally disgusting at Snow for being such a prick, when I'm not much better.

"Amana-," I start.

"I don't want to hear any of it," she says in a voice stronger than I expected.

"Just let me talk to you," I tell her, walking over to her bed and sitting down beside her. She tenses up, but I pretend not to notice.

"What?" she asks. I grab the necklace Rafe gave me, studying it so that I don't have to look at her.

"I didn't mean what I just said, and I'm sorry. I'm just nervous that I'm going to get to know you, and then I'm going to end up having to watch you die." I don't know if a mentor is supposed to tell a tribute that or not, but I need some way to explain to her why I just said that.

"I won't die," she says. I shake my head.

"But you will if you keep talking like that. I came into my Games with that same attitude. I was a cocky punk who'd grown up with everything, and I was convinced that victory would be handed to me on a silver platter. I'm going to tell you right now that nothing about my victory was easy, and if you expect it to be, you're not going to make it past the first day."

"I'm confident, not stupid," she insists.

"We'll see about that," I tell her, smiling a little bit just to try to get her to smile back. When she sees my smile, she relaxes.

"I won't disappoint you," she says, a slight challenge in her voice, then wipes the last of her tears away.

"You better not," I tell her. Then I get up, holding a hand out for her. She takes it, and I pull her to her feet. "Now let's go eat. You'll need to pack on at least a little weight."

We start walking back to the main room, then, and I start thinking that maybe this mentoring thing isn't so bad. Then she puts her hand on my waist and that thought leaves my head immediately. What kind of ditz do you have to be to run off sobbing about what kind of jerk I am one second, then to go right back to flirting with me the next? Especially when she's a week away from fighting to the death. I don't think it's fair, knowing how God seems to forget to give some people working brains.

I sigh, knowing that I still have a lot more work cut out for me.


	26. Duchu Lodì

A/N- Here's my next chapter, please read and review. Thank you.

* * *

Our meal is awkward to say the least. Adair spends the whole time feeding his face, even though I hear Mags whisper to him to slow down. I can't blame the kid, though. When I was on the way to my Games, I ate until I almost had to throw up, and I was one of the kids who actually had enough to eat.

Amana, on the other hand, has the opposite problem. First, comes her declaration that the only "meat" she eats is fish.

"You'd better adjust pretty quickly. There may not be fish in the arena," Mags tells her gently. I roll my eyes.

"Do you really expect her to know how to hunt?" I ask, earning myself a glare from Mags, and a wave of Amana's hand.

"My sponsors will give me food," she says simply. I look at Mags, Mags gets a really worried look on her face, like she's finally realizing what she did to me.

"I'm the one who lets the food in, and I don't care how many sponsors want to give you food. If I believe that you're in a situation where you can get your own, I'm not going to send you anything," I tell her. That wipes the smile off her face immediately, and also shuts everyone else up. Well, except Alva. She chatters on obliviously, seemingly talking to herself.

When the meal is done, we head to another room to watch the other Reapings. Amana seems to forget about what I'd said just minutes before, and plops down right beside me on a couch.

I catch Mags' eye, then mouth, "Help me."

"Help her," she says overly dramatically. I glance at Amana.

"Watch the Reapings, not me," I plead.

She doesn't lay an eye on the tv once. While I'm trying to watch, she's giving me googly eyes. I talk to her about this tribute and that tribute, trying to give her pointers, but she isn't taking anything in.

"Amana," I hiss. "Look at her. You see her?" I point to a hysterical girl from District 7.

"Yeah."

"Do you think you'll have to pay much attention to her?"

"Well if she doesn't shut up, yeah." Mags and Adair both look over at us. Even Alva gives me a pitiful glance. I get up and leave. There is no way she's going to listen to me. That stupid girl is going to die in just a week. Why in the hell do I have to even try?

I head to my room immediately, but I know there's no way I could fall asleep. Instead I pace back and forth again and again, trying to calm myself down. I guess I know that girls that stupid exist outside the Capitol. They used to follow me all the time. I just couldn't imagine any of them as tributes. That's probably because they're about as far from what a tribute should be as possible. It's disgraceful, really.

I stay up pacing half the night, trying to figure out what I'm going to do about Amana. One I settle on a last ditch effort, I finally lay down, but only manage to squeeze in a little over an hour of sleep. Let's just say that I probably should've worked harder to get my sleep. I'm nervous and tired, which does wonders for my personality.

I walk out of my room before breakfast, then stalk through the hallways until I'm in front of Amana's room. I knock loudly enough to shake the door, and she stomps over, throwing the door open.

"What the he-" she starts, until she sees who it is.

"I need to talk to you," I tell her.

"I'm not ready yet," she complains.

"You're dressed, what else-"

"My makeup," she shrieks. The dark circles under her eyes aren't the only sign that she didn't sleep much better than I did.

"Do you want to know where you can shove the makeup?" She starts to slam the door, but I grab her arm and yank her out of her room.

"You are such an asshole," she shrieks as I drag her through the hallways.

"You won't get makeup in the arena," I tell her dryly. That gets her to stop thrashing and squealing at least. She tears her arm away from mine and crosses them over her chest, then marches along behind me. At first she pouts, but when she figures out that no one gives a shit, she just glares holes in my back.

Mags and Adair are eating breakfast when I storm in, Amana stomping along behind me.

"Are you guys almost done?" I ask as calmly as possible. "I want to go over strategy." Amana shrinks a little bit. Mags grabs Adair's arm and leads him out of the room, casting a worried look at me.

The second they're gone, I gesture for Amana to sit down.

"So it's easier for you to beat me?" she asks dryly. I ignore her.

"I'm going to try one more time to knock some sense into you. If this doesn't work, you're as good as dead to me."

"I have enough sense," she says. I look down at her, making her shrink even more.

"No, you don't. Do you want to hear a little story? Six years ago, I was in the Hunger Games. I was a cocky little shit like you, and I thought that winning was going to be fun and easy. Guess what? I watched my district partner get a knife through her back, then had to sit there and hold her hand while she died. After that, I lost my mind.

"I started killing for fun. Not because I wanted to win the Games, but because I liked to see the blood seeping out from a tribute's skin after I sent my trident through their stomach. Remember what I said, that the most beautiful ones are the most fun to kill? At the time, I meant it. You have no idea how much I enjoyed killing that girl. That is what the Games do to you, Amana. You don't breeze through.

"Even if you do win, you never really leave the Games. Every death that I witnessed, that I caused, is still seared into my brain. I see them at night, in my nightmares. I carry a knife everywhere, even after six years, because a part of me worries that I'm going to turn a corner and find Titus waiting for me. Do you remember him? The cannibal? I watched him eat a girl's heart. She was smarter than you were, and stronger than you were, and she got her heart eaten out. If that's what happened to her, what in the hell is going to happen to you?"

She gapes at me, her eyes wide, her mouth open like she wants to say something, but can't.

"Y- you're just trying to scare me," she finally gets out. "You're lying."

I put my hand on her chin and tilt her face up so that I'm looking right into her violet eyes. It's hard, letting someone I hardly know see right into my soul, but I want her to believe me.

"Believe what you want Amana, but choose carefully. It could be the difference between life and death."

Then I walk away, leaving her standing there, still gaping. She won't be there for long, I know. Alva will tell her that we're about ten minutes away from the Capitol, and she'll fly to the window to wave at all the people. I retreat to my room for that very reason. She'll wave at the people. I'm planning on avoiding them.

I don't get away with that for long, however. Maybe that's a good thing. When we get to the Capitol, the tributes are whisked off to their stylists, and I start to head to my quarters. Instead, Mags finds me and grabs my arm.

"Aren't you interested in making friends?" she asks, and leads me to a room filled with other victors, mentors. I've spoken to only a few of them, and there are none that I actually know. Mags, probably figuring that I'm a big boy and can make friends on my own, ditches me, leaving me alone.

Normally, I'd be able to go out there and just start talking to random people. When I'm tired enough that I can hardly walk, it isn't that easy. I head straight over to a chair and sit down, closing my eyes, hoping to get a few extra minutes of sleep. I'm left in peace for a few minutes, but it doesn't take long for someone to come over and plop down right beside me. I don't bother opening my eyes to see who it is. They probably won't interrupt me anyway, if they think I'm sleeping.

"The Capitol's social butterfly, sleeping at this nice little powwow. You aren't staying in character very well." I yawn, open my eyes, and slowly look to see who's sitting beside me, even though I have a fairly good idea. If the slurred speech hadn't given it away, the scent of alcohol would've. Haymitch Abernathy. Complete with a bottle of liquor.

"I see you're working very hard to keep your reputation," I tell him, looking at the bottle. "Maybe I should be taking notes." He snorts.

"I heard you were a smartass, I just didn't believe it. What happened to that smooth ladies man we all see on TV?"

"He only works nights," I mumble, remembering that I'm going to be expected to do my job later tonight. Haymitch tries to pass me the bottle.

"Forget for a while?" he asks me. I shake my head.

"Sometimes there are things that need to be remembered," I tell him. He makes a face, then takes another sip.

"You're shitting me, right? You're Snow's lapdog incase you haven't noticed."

"I guess it escaped my notice," I tell him sarcastically. He just shakes his head, then gets up and walks away. I'm more than a little weirded out, so I'm thankful when Chastity walks over to me a few minutes later.

"Finnick Odair, sitting in a corner?" she asks me, taking Haymitch's place.

"I'm tired," I tell her. She smiles.

"Worried about your tribute?" she asks. I shrug.

"She's going to die right away," I say. She puts a hand on my shoulder.

"You'll get used to it," she says. We talk for a little while longer, mostly about our tributes, then someone comes and tells us that the opening ceremonies are starting soon. All of the mentors are taken to a luxury box situated in the City Circle. Huge Tv screens line the box so that we can see the chariots from different angles.

I don't pay too much attention to the first three chariots, and I'm not planning on paying attention to the District 4 one either. That is, until I catch a glimpse of Amana.

I do have to admit that she is beautiful. Silvia has her dressed like the Duchu Lodì, the ghost of a woman from District 4 who was taken hostage by a Capitol ship during the first rebellion. Eventually the Capitol abandoned the ship, executing all of their prisoners. Except one. They forgot about the Duchu Lodi, and she ended up freezing to death. Years later, some kids were exploring that ship and found a beautiful ghostly woman, struggling against her chains, begging to be freed. They ignored her and hurried home.

The next morning, their parents found the kids lying in their beds, froze to death in the middle of summer. Since then, others have explored the ship, and many have seen the Duchu Lodi. If they help her, they are blessed for life. If they don't, they are found dead the next morning, snow white and ice cold.

It's just an old story that parents in my district say to scare their kids, or that older kids use to entertain themselves by running on the old ship where she is said to have died. I don't know where Silvia heard the story, but it's immediately obvious that is where Amana's costume got its inspiration. Her torn silver dress shimmers softly in the light, giving it what appears to be a spectral glow. Her blonde hair is laced with seaweed and hangs limply on either side of her face. Her hair is messy, caked with dirt and flying in every direction.

But that is nothing compared to her face. I don't know how Silvia got the inspiration for this one, but she gave Amana the most haunting face that I have ever seen. A face that you will see in your dreams for maybe the rest of your life. I almost want to look away, but I can't.

Her face is snow white, her lips and eyelids a deep purple. Silver and dark purple vines crawl over her cheeks, making intricate patterns along her face. Then her eyes are surrounded by amethyst makeup, making the irises an eerily piercing violet color that I know I will never forget. No one looks at Adair, I don't think that they can. Amana is too eerily beautiful to take an eye off of. Then she's gone, and the other tributes start going past, but I can't stop thinking about her ghostly purple eyes.

None of the other tributes are even close to her. Most of them can't stop looking at the screen, where she's taking up almost all of the camera time. One girl, that girl from Seven I pointed out to Amana earlier, actually seems to be shrinking in her giant tree suit, staring at the ground with tears in her eyes. Just seeing that contrast between her and Amana, I have to wonder if Amana may not actually stand a chance. Maybe she will listen to me, and if she does, she'll be able to win easily. I mean, look at her competition.

When we all get back to the Remake Center and head to our floor, Amana turns around, still in her costume, and smiles at me.

"Pretty impressive, don't you think?" she asks me. I smile.

"It was okay," I answer. "But it's not going to help you next week unless I let your sponsors help you."

"You don't want my blood on your hands," she says. I shrug.

"It wouldn't be my fault, it'd be yours. Besides, it's not like I haven't killed anybody before." She rolls her eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." She starts to walk away, then turns around. "And Finnick? I appreciate your concern, but I don't need your help. I can win this thing my way." I sigh.

"I'm not going to cry when you get your head bashed in."

"I wouldn't expect you to," she says, then leaves. Mags and Adair head off to watch a recap of the ceremonies, with Adair giving me an invitation to join them. I shake my head sadly, even though I'd really like to. I have another job to do, and Snow would be very disappointed in me if I didn't. I leave the Remake Center, planning on finding another succubus to entertain.

Chastity finds me before I get a chance. She was sitting outside of the building, laughing with another guy from her district. Chaff, I think.

"Where are you going?" she asks me.

"Snow expects me to work," I tell her. Her face looks troubled.

"Now?" she asks. I sigh. So I'm probably the only victor that has to work over the course of the Games. Great.

"Yes, now." Chaff shakes his head, and I can tell that he's disgusted. Chastity looks at him.

"Finnick and I are going out tonight," she says. I gape at her, and she turns to face me. "You can have a girlfriend this trip, it won't ruin your reputation too much."

"Thank yo-"

"I don't like seeing what that man does to you," is all she says. Then she holds out her arm, and I take it, thankful that she took at least one of my problems off my shoulders.

That doesn't mean that this mentoring thing is anywhere near easy, though.


	27. Quite an Angel, that Johanna Mason

A/N- Thank you for reviewing, favoriting my story, or even just reading. I appreciate it, and I hope you enjoy this chapter.

* * *

My next two days are basically spent hanging around the other victors. I've started talking to Amana only when necessary, doing my best to convince myself that she's the spawn of Satan. It actually isn't hard, since she's basically told me that she doesn't need me anyway. I'm still planning on helping her out in the arena, but outside of it? I'm not concerning myself too badly with her problems.

She's at training most of the time anyway, which makes my life easier. I spend most of my time with Chastity, mainly to keep up the appearance that we're going out. We don't talk very much, though. She refuses to talk about herself or anything really. In those two days we spent together, we were side by side most of the time, and she spoke maybe a dozen words to me the entire time. I don't take it personally, though. She's just really quiet.

I do make a few other friends, though, not the least of which is Haymitch Abernathy. He's still shit faced every time I see him-I'm starting to consider that a personality trait of his, instead of just a condition-,but his sarcasm is entertaining, and I can relate to his hatred of the Capitol. He never actually says anything about it, but I can see it in his eyes, in the way that he talks about them. I doubt he'd tell me exactly what they did to him if he was on his deathbed, but that's fine. I'm not interested in sharing my story about Annie with him either.

Just because I don't want to tell him that doesn't mean that anything is wrong with him, though. Actually, I hate to admit it, but I start looking up to him. I know that a lot of Victors don't know about what Snow does to me. If you aren't physically attractive, and I mean attractive enough for the Capitol, chances are that you don't know about it, unless you're part of one of the rebel groups. Because of this, a number of Victors basically treat me like crap. Haymitch, who's probably too drunk to care what other people think, gets into the habit of cussing out anyone who makes a comment about me, or who even looks at me funny. I actually start doing the same to Victors who comment on Haymitch's drunkenness, or if they say something about how he ignores his pathetic tributes. Basically, Haymitch and I bond over asshole Victors that think they're perfect.

Then there's Chaff, who's actually Chastity's uncle. He's one of Haymitch's friends too, and they spend a lot of their time drinking with each other. That's how I get to know him. He's basically the opposite of Haymitch. Instead of looking down at everything and hating himself, he has more of a glass half full approach.

He laughs at everything, mostly himself. I would like him better if he didn't spend so much of his time teasing about not drinking. I have too many things that could slip from my lips too easily if I did, though, no matter how tempting it'd be to blotch everything out. Besides, I have a bad enough reputation. I don't need to be known as a drunk too. So, I spend a lot of my time watching Chaff and Haymitch pass a bottle back and forth, with Haymitch snapping at anyone who looks at us funny, and Chaff laughing at him.

That does get tiring after a while, though, especially with the fumes of alcohol in my face. Whenever I get sick of them, I talk to Lavinia, a forty or so year old woman from District One. She has four children at home, and she's one of the nicest people that I ever met. We talk about how we miss our home, she asks about Rafe, who I've mentioned in interviews quite a bit. One time I ask her about her kids, and she goes on for almost an hour straight about how amazing all of them are. It wasn't even boring, just because she was so happy about it.

She had a smile on her face the entire time, and it's obvious that she worshipped them. Just talking to her has me thinking about Annie, and how good of a mother she'd be, but of how we can't have any kids, not unless the districts rebel anyway. Then I wonder how many kids that I have floating around, and I cringe at the thought, so I make myself focus on stories about how good her oldest son is at wrestling, and about how he's already safe from the Games, and that she just has three left to get through the Reapings now.

When I'm not talking with the Victors, I'm doing a somewhat pathetic job of landing Amana sponsors. Basically, I start out talking to some people Alva set up for me. Then, I just walk around the rich parts of town and ask if anyone wants to sponsor Amana. I only spend maybe two hours on that, though, so it's not like it takes time away from my busy schedule.

* * *

So, those two days aren't horrible. Well, except for the training scores, maybe. The highest is an eight, which disappoints the commentators. They're predicting a somewhat boring Games this year. The girl from Seven and a guy from Six even got twos.

"Maybe you actually stand a chance," I tell Amana sarcastically when the scores are finished. She got a six doing I don't know what. Maybe she could complain ferociously enough to scare the judges. She glares at me.

"You're a prick."

"You're the one who won't listen to me," I say, then go back to ignoring her. Adair tries not to laugh. I like him. He's quiet, but he's nice, and he does stand a chance of winning. He's the one who scored the 8. I'm going to be rooting for him.

The third day, however, doesn't turn out so well. I sit around and watch TV while I wait for Alva to finish with Amana so I can "help" prepare her for her interview.

"How was your lesson with Alva?" I ask when she walks in.

"That girl is such a bitch," she says. I have to resist the urge to laugh. Alva is too peppy. Amana is a bitch. I'm tempted to ask her if she's ever looked in the mirror, but I already know that answer to that. I think that she's like Narcissus, a guy from ancient stories who fell in love with his own reflection.

"They just have weird customs," I answer simply, not wanting to start a huge fight.

"You'd know that, wouldn't you?" she asks.

"I guess I've spent some time in the Capitol," is my response. Then I steer our conversation back to the interviews. "So, what personality are you going for?"

"Do I have to pretend to be something?" she asks.

"Nah, the Capitol likes that brainless slut attitude you have just fine. It'll actually be perfect." She snorts.

"You're talking, you stupid man-whore." So I walk away again. So what if her interview isn't perfect? She's going to die anyway. I don't want to seem so careless, but if I'm going to end up mentoring for a while, I don't want to go crazy. There's nothing I can really do for her, so I don't know why I need to try.

* * *

I'm not going to say that Amana had a bad interview, but it wasn't good either. The best was actually from the girl from Seven, Johanna Mason, I figure out her name is. By no means did it earn her sponsors, but I think that it earned her sympathy from every person in Panem.

Imagine this seventeen year old girl, smaller than almost any of the other tributes, with these huge brown eyes and the wiry build of the starving. That alone would get her sympathy. Her story, however, is practically heartbreaking. It probably takes away her last hope of being seeing as anything other than an easy kill, but it almost makes me cry.

Her mother had her when she was sixteen, and she raised her without a father, with almost no money. She had a sickly childhood, and could barely leave her house until she was seven. Then, she finally had a chance to go to school, which was the happiest thing that had ever happened in her life.

Only as soon as she was better, she also had to start working. She mentioned working for some of the lumberjacks, even though she never specified. I'm guessing she probably made them food or something. Whatever it was, she's spent the last ten years of her life working to help her mother, making money and taking care of her. Now, she insists, that she only hopes her dearest mother will be able to survive without her.

"So you don't think you'll be able to win?" Caesar Flickerman asks her. She shakes her head sadly.

"I've never had an opportunity to learn how to hunt, or fight back in Seven," she says in a soft, sweet voice. "Besides, I can't imagine myself killing someone anyway."

"Well, I'll still be wishing you luck," Caesar says. Johanna gives him an angelic smile.

"May the Lord bless you, Caesar," she says. Then her bell rings and she's done. She actually has some of the people in the Capitol crying. It isn't fair, really, that someone like that should be forced into the Games. It almost makes me sick.

* * *

That night, I'm actually nice to Amana. She's going to the Games tomorrow, and I try to make her last real day not miserable. I give her pieces of advice that are as helpful as I can manage, and I even mention how much I liked her interview, even though I didn't pay much attention to it at all.

"Thank you," she says softly. She's getting nervous, and I can tell that the reality of what she's about to do is really starting to dawn on her.

"You do have a chance," I tell her, no matter how much I think otherwise. "Just make sure that you keep your head on straight." She smiles at me.

"I'll keep that in mind." I turn to go find Chastity, then stop at the last second.

"Amana?" I say.

"Yeah."

"You really aren't that horrible."

"Neither are you," she says. Then I leave her to face whatever fate lays ahead of her in that arena. All that I can do it hope and pray that she doesn't die too horrible of a death.

* * *

That night, I can't sleep. Chastity stands in front of the window, staring at the sprawling city outside. I'm pacing back and forth, mumbling to myself. I probably look crazy, but she doesn't comment. I'm terrified. I don't want to watch these Games. I personally know two of the tributes, even if I don't like one of them very much.

I know the other mentors, too, so it's not like I can just go rooting against all of the other tributes. I know that Haymitch's two aren't going anywhere, and the ones from District 11 aren't exactly loaded with potential, but I don't want to see any of them die. Other than my own Games, and Annie's, this one is easily the hardest. In just hours, I'm going to be watching another blood bath, watching twenty three more innocent kids die. Then I have to see the reactions of the people who knew them.

"You have a problem with worrying too much about things outside of your control," Chastity comments to the window, not glancing at me, not raising her voice to indicate that she's talking to me in any way, but it's not like she could be talking to anyone else.

"I don't believe that there is anything completely out of my control."

"You should know better by now," she says. I want to argue, to tell her that everything that happens in my life is triggered by some little move that I make, or that I fail to make. She wouldn't listen, though. There are people that you argue with, and there are people that you don't. Chastity is one of the people who you just let think what she thinks. Besides, I'm guessing that if I challenged her, she'd dig up some example to prove me wrong, and I'd end up looking stupid.

So I keep pacing, and she keeps staring out the window. Eventually I get tired and go to bead, but she's still staring out the window when I get up the next morning.

"Good view?" I ask her, not expecting a response.

"There are no stars, no sun here," she says softly. "The buildings and lights are all that you can see. Just more proof of people trying to play God." Then she leaves her post and walks out the door, her face a blank slate.

I stay in bed, not wanting to get up. It's early, the sky is still pink, but the tributes leave soon, and I have to be ready. Both Mags and I will be in a room together, with screens showing us each of the tributes, as well as another one that will allow us to look wherever we want in the arena.

We're allowed to conference with other district's mentors, but only if we ask them and they give us their permission. If both of our tributes die, we'll go to help another district, as long as they allow it. We have a machine to contact any of the districts, another to get a hold of sponsors, and then a third one to control what our tributes get.

There's a screen for both Amana and Adair. Each screen has an amount of money that sponsors give us, or a specific object that they want to send in. If we want something specifically, we search through a huge selection of items, select what we want, and the machine will contact the sponsors. Any sponsor that agrees with the choice will funnel us the money needed to send the item to the tribute. If another district wishes to send our tribute something, which is extraordinarily rare, then another picture flashes, we see what they want to give, and we can let it through or not.

There are two beds in each small room, other than Haymitch's and the mentor from Seven, because they have only one tribute each. They get one bed to save space. Before a mentor wants to go to sleep, which we're only supposed to do if totally necessary, we tell one of the machines that we're going to bed, and they'll alert us anytime our tribute is close to activating a trap, whenever they're in an encounter with other tributes, or if they're in need of something.

That's basically how mentors live when they have a tribute in the arena. There are other little things too, some extra rules and things, but from what Mags told me, that's the gist of it.

Mags grabs me just a few minutes later, and takes me to a totally separate building made specifically for the mentors. Then we retreat to our room, turn everything on, and get ready for the Games. Right now, we can see the tributes in the stockyard, get ready for launch. There's a clock on top of the main screen, which shows us what the average audience would see. Claudius Templesmith's voice rings from a speaker in the background, summing up each tribute and giving betting odds.

Then the tributes step on their platforms, the clock ticks to zero, and everyone is lifted into the arena.


	28. Karma and Irony

A/N- Here is the 1st Part of the 71st Hunger Games. I'm planning on dividing this into two or three chapters, depending on ideas that pop into my head. Please enjoy.

* * *

When I see the arena, I immediately think that it's the perfect place for the Duchu Lodi. As the camera pans out, showing everything, I get more and more drawn into these Games. A forest of towering dead trees makes up most of the arena, with icicles dangling from the barren branches. A dusting of light, powdery snow lines the arena, and the light breeze causes it to swirl, ghostlike, right over the ground. The camera flashes to a hole in a hollow tree, revealing nothing but dangerous yellow eyes, so similar to Orica's that I shiver.

Other than animals lurking around, and the tributes preparing to kill, I don't think that there's a single thing alive in the arena. With some imagination, I can definitely picture the Duchu Lodi leaving her ship to haunt this forest. The almost visible chill in the air, the cracking of frozen trees in the background, everything screams her name. I know that Amana probably has nothing at all in common with the ghost in the stories, but I find myself thinking that this is the perfect place for her.

Amana, however, doesn't seem to share that opinion. Her eyes grow to the size of oranges when she sees the shadowy forests. None of the tributes look totally comfortable, and the ones from the constantly warm districts like 11 and 10 wrap their thick coats a little more tightly around them. The clock on the screen ticks down, second by second, as the more experienced, smarter tributes get ready to run. Amana and several others are still too busy looking around.

Then the gong sounds, and about half of the tributes take off for the forest, leaving only a few bigger tributes willing to fight it out at the cornucopia….and Johanna Mason?

Actually, as I see just seconds later, she doesn't fight. The little angel of a girl simply darts into the middle of the battle, grabs what appears to be completely random stuff to me, then runs away untouched. I guess no one bothered to take care of her, especially not when there are more threatening tributes ready to hack off your head.

I keep one eye on the monitor that shows the bloody duel at the cornucopia, and another on Amana, who came away with nothing. See, that's where mentoring would really help. I wouldn't exactly have told her to go right to the mouth of the cornucopia and start hacking away with a sword like Arowana had done, but to run away with no supplies at all in an arena like this? That's a death wish. Sure, there are animals, but she has no way to kill them, and there are no plants that would do her any good, not that I could see. Not to mention the cold, which really makes a sleeping bag, or at least at blanket, a dire necessity.

"Mags, that dumbass ran away with nothing," I tell her. I turn my attention from Amana to Adair, who at least has a medium sized pack on his back. He's running away from the fighting too, other than Amana, who's spending too much time walking. Even if she is looking for a decent place to go, she has time for that later. Now, she should just be trying to get away.

"Only pay attention to her if need be," Mags reminds me, knowing that she has zilch chance of winning. That isn't what really bothers me, though. It's the fact that she would have such a good chance if she just worked at it, if she had any brain at all. It may be a little masochistic, but I keep watching her for that reason, hoping that something will kick her into gear, maybe bring out her potential.

I don't watch her closely, not now anyway. She's not doing much, so I pay attention to the other tributes for now. Adair has stopped running, now jogging along, searching for a shelter. The bloodbath at the cornucopia seems to be finished, with a pack of five Careers slowly picking over the remnants of the supplies and starting to set up camp. Nothing going on there.

I glance at all of the other screens, then focus my attention on the main one, where Claudius Templesmith is making comments about how the action should pick up soon, seeing as there is about none whatsoever right now.

"I'm bored," I announce to Mags, not meaning to sound so brusque, but it is boring. I'm not saying I'd like a huge killing spree to start, but really, there'd be nothing wrong if I did. It doesn't matter if the tributes die now or later, but all of them are going to eventually die, save for the one that gets to come out into this hell. So, actually I will say that I hope for some kind of huge massacre that takes out all of the tributes in one night. It'd be easier for the families anyway. I mean, why give anyone hope when it's not going to lead anywhere anyway?

"Be patient. It won't be "boring" for long," she says in a voice that lets me know she isn't thrilled with my attitude. Sadly, I'm not what you would call offended.

Things pick up a couple hours later, when the sun that was sort of peeking through the thick clouds sets, plunging the arena into eerily darkness. There are no stars, and those same thick clouds completely cover the moon. The stupid tributes that didn't get anything from the cornucopia, including Amana, are freezing their butts off, that's obvious. A couple of the really stupid ones, again including Amana, even start fires. That really pisses me off, especially since the pack of Careers always goes hunting at dark.

I search through the list of supplies I could send her, looking for something that'll get her to put out the stupid fire. She doesn't have too much money to begin with, not like the numbers I'm heard that Mags had to work with during my Games, so I don't want to be careless. A blanket would be nice, but I don't have the resources for that. I could send her a bottle of water, which would be totally unnecessary with all the snow. If she had a brain, she'd figure I'd want her to use it on the fire. But she doesn't, so that would be a waste of money.

"How do I get her to put that stupid fire out?" I ask Mags. She shakes her head.

"You don't. If she's foolish enough to start it in the first place, then you won't be able to get her to put it out." That's when I go over to my bed, squeeze my eyes shut, and pray for sleep. To my shock, it actually comes.

* * *

When Mags wakes me up a few hours later, the weather has changed dramatically. The wind has to be tearing through there at around forty miles an hour, because the snow that's falling from cotton ball clouds seems to be coming down sideways, causing the entire arena to turn into a solid chunk of white. I doubt that the tributes can see two feet in front of their faces. Even the cameras, with technology to be able to see through this stuff, have trouble picking up any more than fuzzy outlines.

Oh, and if you're wondering, Amana's fire is out.

"They're going to freeze to death," I tell Mags, looking at all the screens and seeing nothing but tributes. Any groups of them are huddled together, and single tributes are wedged into tight places, begging for warmth. I look at a little chart we have that lists the dead tributes. Ten are already gone, and a couple of faces are flashing, meaning that they're on the brink of death.

Amana and Adair aren't that far yet. In fact, Adair is curled up in a sleeping bag that must've been in his pack, so he looks better off than most of the tributes. Amana is huddled in a ball, which isn't exactly smart, since she probably won't be able to move if this lasts too long.

I'm somewhat shocked when I look at Johanna Mason's screen and realize that she's not only alive, but she's being smart, a lot smarter than Amana. She's dug a little den into a big pile of snow, and is curled up in there, a thin blanket of snow lying on top of her. All of her supplies must be shoved in a big bag that she's basically hugging. Maybe for warmth, or maybe so that she can make a quick get away. I guess I don't know.

I don't think she'd need to go anywhere very quickly, though. Not only is she going to be warm with this arrangement, but if another tribute would be pass her in this storm, he wouldn't see anything at all. I guess that having that resourcefulness isn't completely unexpected, though. In every picture of District 7 that I've ever seen, there have been loads of snow in the background. She's probably grown up breathing that stuff. Even so, I can't help but being mildly impressed.

"I'd rather have that runt than Amana," I tell Mags, pointing to Johanna's screen.

"Amana would actually stand a chance in a fight," Mags tells me.

It soon becomes pretty apparent, however, that there isn't going to be much fighting going on with this particular arrangements. After a day and a half of tributes sitting out the blizzard, the snow stops. Three more have died of cold, and another had stupidly tried finding better shelter and wandered right into the Careers camp, leaving ten.

Amana's picture is flashing at the moment, and I can only imagine why. She hasn't eaten, she tried to drink snow once, and she has to be freezing. I look at that flashing picture, decide that she's beyond help, and watch as the Careers break out of their little huddle and start hunting. It isn't for food either.

They break up into two groups, trudging through the knee-deep snow with swords in their hands and bows on their shoulders. For about an hour, it seems like they aren't going to find anyone. Then I notice how close they're getting to where Johanna has buried herself. I check out Johanna's screen, and sure enough, she's peeking out of her little den, hugging this huge axe to her chest. I can't imagine her being able to lift it, yet alone use it, though. Especially not against two Careers who are twice her size.

"I don't want to see her die," I tell Mags. "She seems too sweet."

"None of them deserve to die," she answers, peeking over at the screen. "I pray that boy doesn't use that mace."

I open my mouth to speak, but then notice that the Careers are walking straight over to where Johanna is hiding. One of them notices that the snow isn't completely right, then starts scanning the area, just feet from where she is. He takes another step, then another. Then I jump fifty feet in the air when he gets an axe lodged into his face. In another instant, that axe flies through the air and buries itself into the back of the other guy's head, about five feet away.

"Holy shit," I breath. Mags' eyes are the size of saucers. I keep looking at the screen, sure that I saw something wrong, sure that the person who was wielding that axe wasn't Johanna Mason. But it was. I watch in shock as I see her carefully make her way over to where the Career with the axe in his head is lying, then yank it out of his head.

There's some regret in her eyes, and I know that she's getting that sick feeling that you get after you kill someone for the first time, but I also know that it isn't going to stop her one bit. She cleans the blood from the axe in the pure white snow, then gathers her things and plods through the snow in search of another place for her to hide. No, not hide. I have to wonder if she was ever hiding. She was waiting.

That little angel of a girl was waiting for people to come by because she knew she could kill them with that axe in seconds. I remember when she was telling her story, how she never specified what job she had back in District 7. Well, it wasn't giving cookies to the lumberjacks, that's for sure. She's probably been cutting lumber since she could walk. I'm sure that it's to make money for her mother, I mean, if a tribute lied about something like that, Snow wouldn't be very happy.

I really don't think that she lied about anything. It's just that sweet, offhand way she said every single word that made us believe that she was as fragile as she looked. It's the fact that she must've blown her training score, so she wouldn't have gotten that ten or eleven that would've giver her away. And most of all, it was those tears that everyone saw the day of the Reaping, that got every single tribute, every single mentor, to count her out. Now, I can tell that she's going to make them pay. In my opinion, she's probably the smartest tribute that's even played these Games.

Now, going back to the not so smart tributes…. After I've gotten over my shock of watching Johanna chuck an axe that's as big as she is, I look at the list of dead tributes again. Amana is still alive, but I figure that she's going to die any second. I start to retreat to the bed, hoping to get myself to go to sleep before she does die, but then the siren flashes in our room, signaling a tributes death.

I can't help myself. I look at her screen. Then I start laughing. It's all I can do. The laughter is hysterical, and I don't think anything is truly funny, but I can't stop. Maybe it's my way of ensuring that I'm not sad, I don't know. I just know that Amana's death is the craziest thing I have ever seen.

Her lips are purple, her face drained of all color, and her violet eyes staring ahead blankly. Her blonde hair is blowing wildly behind her, putting the finishing touch on the Duchu Lodi. You could call Silvia psychic, or say that whatever messed up God lets these Games continue has a sense of humor, but I'm just going to say that it's karma. Crazy, twisted karma. Yet, I laugh. Really, it's the perfect solution to keep from crying. I didn't like Amana, I thought she was evil, but this is just too morbid. I vaguely wonder if maybe people will stop telling that story back home now. Or maybe they'll tell it more, because there's a certain proof to it now.

Think about this. Amana never took the time to help anyone. She was a careless flirt, and she cared about herself above all things. The Duchu Lodi froze those who refused to help her. If you really, really consider it, maybe it wasn't the Games that really killed Amana. Maybe something else possessed her to run from the cornucopia, to curl into that ball in a senseless, random spot. Maybe the Duchu Lodi didn't want someone like that impersonating her. Maybe the cold didn't cause Amana to freeze to death….

But that's crazy, isn't it?

This is the Hunger Games, however. If Johanna Mason can kill like that, then spirits at work wouldn't be weird at all.

"Do you think….?" I ask Mags. I notice that she's looking at me strangely. Maybe it was the laughing.

"Finnick, no." I shrug. It was worth some consideration. Mags is right, though. I can't blame an evil spirit for the wrongdoings of an evil man. Snow is to blame, and nobody else.


	29. Never Judge a Book by its Cover

A/N- Although I would love to spend a lot more time on these Games, especially since I love Johanna, I figure that I should finish them this chapter. This is Finnick's story, after all, and his future friendship with Johanna is more important than her Games. So, I am sorry for hustling through this part, but I need to move the story along. Thank you for reading, and please review.

Things slow down after that, to say the least. Adair, who before was just hiding out, sets to work pretty quickly after the blizzard stops. With a sword in his hand, and a set of some pretty gruesome looking knives in his pocket, he sets out to search for lone tributes to kill.

So there he is, walking around, looking to kill.

Then there's Johanna, who's positioned herself in another homemade snow den right beside the cornucopia, her axe by her side. She's especially dangerous, because there isn't a single tribute that's still alive with any idea about her.

Lastly, there's the remaining three Careers, who return to the Cornucopia to regroup after seeing the faces of the other two in the sky. After they get everything straightened out and roles are reassigned, they once again set out.

There are ten tributes left. Half of them are ready to kill. So don't you think that'd mean that the other five are going to be killed?

Well, if you do, you're disappointed. Johanna falls asleep after an hour or so of waiting, not like it's a big deal. She jerks awake whenever so much as a snowflake falls on her face. Adair searches for a couple hours, before he sees a nice little cave nestled in some rock, and heads in there to warm up. The Careers, who hardly got any sleep at night, eventually decide to return to the cornucopia. They set up camp and take shifts guarding the others.

The other five tributes are basically doing nothing. The two from Ten are nestled together, trying to stay warm. The surviving boy from Eleven is cleaning some fluffy white bird that he managed to kill. A starving girl from Twelve forages for plants through the snow, unsuccessfully. The last one from Three is perched in a tree, watching everything go by below.

Slow and boring would be two perfect words to describe these Games at the moment. I know the Capitol can't be very happy. Hell, I'm not very happy. I don't want to see blood like they do, but I at least want things to start moving along so I can see Annie again.

Well, I guess the Gamemakers finally realize that the audience has to be getting bored, because they send a pack of nice, friendly wolves out to attack Johanna Mason. I find myself getting pissed at them, going after one of the only tributes that's actually shown she deserves to be in these Games. I guess I'm not mad for long, though. She hears the howling before they're within a hundred feet of her, and she's up in a second, scampering up a tree, her supplies on her back.

The Careers had set up camp just a little way away from this scene, so the one who's on watch duty jogs over to see what's going on. With wide eyes, he takes in Johanna sitting in the tree, and the dozen or so wolves that are snapping and yowling at her.

Johanna, never ceasing to amaze me, catches a glimpse of the boy and starts crying hysterically, even getting actual tears to roll down her cheeks. I don't know what's going through the boys mind, but I think the reason that he takes out his arrows and starts shooting has more to do with the fact that some of the wolves have noticed him than Johanna's tears.

He snipes down about five of them before the pack decides to get a hold of the threat, and turns from Johanna to him. The boy then forces himself up another tree, while yelling for the help of the other two Careers.

The girl from One, Titania, hears him first, snatching up a sword and hustling over to where she hears him, calling Regan, the girl from Two, as she goes.

Titania sees the wolves, takes a step back, then rushes forward after a second of deliberation. She mows down two more before one jumps on her, getting ready to sink its teeth into her throat. The boy, I don't even know his name, shoots it with an arrow a second before the wolf's fangs pierce the skin. Regan gets over there a second later, swinging a mace into the side of another wolf, sending it flying, and Titania hops up and finishes that one off as the boy picks off two more, and Regan bashes the head of the last one in with her mace.

The three Careers stay there for a moment, panting, just holding their bloodstained weapons. Then the boy seems to remember Johanna, and looks over at the tree. She's long gone though, darting through the forest, away from the three Careers. No matter how good she is, three on one is a death sentence, especially if they had her treed.

I look at the main screen one more time, unable to believe that everyone survived that. I mean, seriously? These Games are already dragging out, and it hasn't even been a week. I'm actually debating if I should be rooting for Adair to die, so that I can go hang out with Haymitch over in his room. I doubt that that's a possibility, though. Adair is too well off right now to die, and Haymitch's girl is on the brink of death. I guess that the boy from Eleven is a little better off, and Chastity and Chaff _would _add some excitement to everything... but I don't want that kid to win. He's a tall, skinny punk, and just from his interviews he seems like he'd act like a snotty girl. He bugs me, I guess.

"One hundred bottles of beer on the wall…" I mumble to myself. Mags shoots me a funny look. I shrug. "Haymitch taught it to me."

"Finnick, take a nap." Gees, that makes me feel like a little kid again. Well, I'm not going to say that I'm not acting like one. I'm bored out of my mind, and I'm starting to go crazy.

"I don't need to sleep. I've moved like two inches the last five days." Okay, that's an exaggeration, since the showers are actually two floors above us, but you get what I mean. Sitting in one little room almost all day really tests your patience.

I settle for pacing, and when that gets boring, I do pushups and crunches. The figures on the tv seem to be doing nothing. The five pathetic tributes stay in their own little world. Adair sleeps. The Careers are sleeping. Johanna is sleeping. Their timing must be messed up or something, probably because the arena is so cloudy that it's hard to tell day from night. That's the only reason I can come up with that they'd all be asleep at six p.m.

I'm just starting to call an Avox to escort me to the showers (we can't go along, incase we want to sabotage someone else's mentoring), when Johanna wakes up and starts hunting around again.

I watch for a little white, doubting that she's going to find anyone, when she stumbles across the tribute from Eleven. The boy jumps up, taking a knife in his hand and pointing it at her. Johanna, the best actor I have ever seen, stumbles backwards, her eyes wide.

"I-I-I'm sorry," she blubbers, tears welling up in her eyes. "Please don't hurt me. I swear, I'll leave you alone."

The boy, doing what anyone would do, hesitates. He still has his knife pointed at her, but he isn't really paying attention. Why would he? The poor girl is so frightened that she can hardly move, let alone grab that malicious looking axe that's sticking out of her bag.

Of course, that's exactly what she does. When the boy hesitates for that one second, she grabs her axe, and in one fluid motion, she cuts his head clean off. I mean, the thing doesn't even get stuck. It's like one second his head is on his body, and the next, it's lying at his feet. I suddenly feel really sick, remembering what happened to Annie. She saw something like that, except she was right next to it.

"She didn't have to cut it off," I mumble, still amazed by the sight of that tiny girl waving that axe around like a magic fairy wand. I guess to her, it is, at least in a way. When she uses it, it magically moves her one step closer to freedom.

"It's instinct," Mags reminds me. "If you would've been using an axe in your Games, what do you think would've happened?"

"There'd be a lot more missing than just their heads," I mutter. I'm not proud of it, but it is true. I was a crazy psychopathic madman.

There aren't any kills after that for the next day. I sit around, pacing back and forth, and asking for showers every four hours for something to do. Chastity drops by for a little while, since her District's tributes are dead, but like most of the other mentors, she's basically pulling for Johanna.

"Does it always go by this slowly?" I ask her. She shakes her head.

"Not usually. The tributes this year are very idle, and the arena slows them down a lot." Then she closes her eyes, which means that she's done with conversation. I sit there and play with her hair, partly for the act, but really because there's nothing else to do.

After a few more minutes, she leaves to go watch with everyone who's supporting Johanna, over in District Seven's room. I feel very left out. I can't see anyone winning except for Johanna, especially since everyone else wants her to win, so I don't know why they don't just end the stupid Games now. Send some of those wolves after the tributes who won't actually be able to fight them off. Seriously? Why would those morons send them to the place where Johanna and the Careers are? The people of the Capitol want to see people getting killed, not animals.

Again, I'm not trying to sound callous. It's just that if people are going to die no matter what, they should just all die now. That not only makes it easier on the people who are forced to watch those people die, but it also makes it easier on the people who are forced to fight to the death. Getting it over with quickly means that they don't have all this fear and hunger and all of that crap longer than they need to.

I guess I shouldn't complain. These games haven't gone a week yet, and there aren't many tributes left. I remember the year before mine, when there were still like sixteen tributes left. Those Games lasted nearly a month. These ones will finish before that, I'm sure of it. Hell, I'm pretty sure that Johanna is going to make sure of it whether the Capitol wants them to be done or not.

* * *

And I think that Johanna does just that. There no more snowstorms. The temperatures don't drop too badly. No more wolves either. I'm guessing that the people of the Capitol like these Games, so the Gamemakers do their best to keep them going.

Johanna Mason has other plans. I guess Adair helps her, some. Those two finish off the last seven tributes without any outside help. Adair sneaks up behind one of them, stabbing him to death. His other kill, though, is going to haunt me for quite a while.

The girl from Twelve was sleeping by a fire that she made in a little cave. I can't even get mad at her for making it, because the cave was so secluded and well hidden, and the air was so hazy that no one could see the smoke. Adair, however, wandered close enough to smell it, by complete chance. So he sneaks into this cave, expecting the girl to be asleep or something. She isn't. She's sitting there with her knife raised, ready to fight.

It really isn't a fair fight. Even though she starts with the knife, it eventually clangs to the back of the little cave, leaving her with a huge disadvantage. The only problem is that Adair doesn't have any weapons out. I'm not sure if what happened next was accidental or not. It would make sense, for Adair to get her into the fire, since he didn't have any other way to kill her, not without digging through his pack. Yet, the sheer horror on his face when he saw her burning indicates that he wasn't expecting it.

After he'd gotten the girl in a headlock, he roughly threw her to the ground. Just a little bit of her coat swept through her fire. She didn't notice, not until it'd spread too far. She rolled across the floor of the cave, desperately trying to get it out, but it was too late. For the longest time, Adair stood there, just staring. Then his brain turned on, he grabbed a knife from his pack, and he stuck it in her heart. He should've done it right away. She was still alive when that knife went through her heart, her charred body still on fire. Her screams must've echoed throughout the entire arena.

Yeah, I know that I wanted people to die, that I was getting really impatient for the Games just to end. But no one, let alone a sixteen year old girl, should have to go through that.

Thankfully, Johanna's kills were much cleaner. Every single kill was made with that same axe, cleanly swiping it through the neck, or maybe their head, but some place where they would die right away. She didn't taunt, didn't play games. Her kills were quick and efficient. She never smiled, but she never cried. It was like watching a machine operate instead of an actual person. Really, I was almost jealous that she could keep it together so well, when I was so psychotic by this point in my Games.

Even after Johanna and Adair had spent two days looking for each other, Johanna never tricked him into finding her, like I'd done. She waited, knowing the Gamemakers would get them together. When the thunderstorm came that hit all but a small portion of the arena, the fight was quick.

Adair saw Johanna first, but he had no benefit of surprise. A nanosecond later, she spun around, giving him her best big eyed look. He knew she must've been acting through the opening ceremonies, he had to have known. There was no other way that she would've gotten to that point. Yet, he faltered when he saw that face, those sparkling brown eyes that had welled up with tears when she talked about her mother, her sickly childhood.

That brief hesitation was all that Johanna needed to get the axe across his neck. I can't blame Adair. He did nothing wrong. I'm actually a little pissed at Johanna for killing the District 4 tribute like that. It just seems underhanded. I didn't care with the other tributes, but I liked Adair. In a fair fight, he would've had a good chance of winning. But she tricked him, tricked all of us, and that's how she won.

Two weeks and three days after twenty four tributes ascended into that arena, Johanna Mason was crowned the victor of the 71st Hunger Games.

She went from a sweet little crybaby, to a fierce killer, and then finally to a Victor. I can't be truly happy for her. With her face, it'll just be a matter of months before she goes from Victor to prostitute. Then, since her District has one other Victor, she'll get a taste of mentoring too.

But that's the future, and this is now. For now, I can force a little smile, because seeing the look on someone's face when they're sane enough to realize that they're leaving the arena, well, it makes you realize that everything has a golden lining, no matter how thin.


	30. Pretty Little Daisy

A/N- Thank you for reading, especially since this story is so long. It should be done within a week or two, though. Then I'm going to start a new, separate story that goes through Catching Fire and Mockingjay, because this one is getting a lot of chapters. So again, thank you for sticking with this, and please review.

* * *

I actually manage to forget about Johanna Mason after that, at least somewhat. When I first get home, I find that there are bigger things to think about, although for once, not necessarily bad things.

First, there's the girl.

Annie, who I hadn't been able to tear myself away from since we got back, decided that she wanted to go into town one day. Not the normal part of town either, but the section where she used to live, with the dilapidated shacks and starving vagabonds prowling the streets. She doesn't remember this place, not really. I mentioned it in passing one day, so she decided that she wanted to go.

Just like the only other time I've been here, rain is pouring in sheets, and the only people outside are the ones who have no other place to go. I can feel hate radiating off of them when they see Annie and me, walking around there with our thick cloaks and money burning through our pockets. More than the anger, however, their despair seems to cling on me, and it seems impossible to shake off.

"This is where I grew up," she whispers unbelievingly, clinging to me tightly. A homeless man stretches out in a box, sending a school of mice that were sharing an alley with him flying into the street. Annie jumps, and I hold her even tighter.

"Do you want to go?" I ask her. She nods, and I hurry her into the newer, nicer part of town. Yet, Annie never ceases to amaze me. Instead of wanting to get home, she drags me from store to store in that horrible rain, clearing shelves of food and blankets, clothes and coats.

"We're going back, aren't we?" I ask her.

"I felt bad," she says simply, as if that's a cause for buying six dozen cans of soup.

After we buy everything, we return to the slums. By then, it's late at night, and we can hardly see a foot in front of us. Yet, she insists on going from house to house, knocking on the door and giving out bags of supplies. Neither of us say our names, but I think that everyone knows who we are. Who else would have the money?

It takes the whole night to finally finish, so we aren't walking home until six in the morning, or the time when the men and women are all heading out to the boats. They all stop to stare at Annie and I, who are soaked and shivering, stumbling along to Victor's Village. Strands of hair hang in my face, and it feels like my eyes have been sunk back into my head. I'm exhausted.

That's when someone grabs my arm. I turn around, expecting to see some fisherman or something, wanting to talk about the Games. What I see instead, is a little girl, probably around nine or ten. Her long bronze hair is braided down her back, and her sea green eyes seem tired, with dark circles under them. They seem too old for a girl that looks so young.

Despite how weary she looks though, she's beautiful. Her skin is smooth and tan, her features soft and angelic, and her eyes are stunning. She has a bright white smile, even though there's a gap between her two front teeth, which gives her the cutest grin I have ever seen.

She looks like she should be a mayor's daughter, or even like she wouldn't be out of place at a place as luxurious as the President's mansion, yet she's wearing the same clothes as all the other people going out to work. Well, except for the diamond studs the adorn her ears. That's what tips me off. I mean, I guess the eyes really should have, if not everything else about her appearance. For some reason, I just couldn't get myself to believe that it really was my sister, until I saw those earrings. Almost no one else in the district could afford them, let alone would make their daughter work on the boats. But my father made me work, because he wanted me to learn skills that I'd need for the Games. I guess that means my bad example hasn't deterred him from wanting her to participate as well.

"You're Finnick Odair," she says. Her voice is melodic, like she's singing almost.

"Yes, I am," I tell her. My voice, on the other hand, is dry and husky. It's her, it has to be her.

"And who's that?" she asks, a suggestive tone in her voice, like she's assuming that it's some random girl that I'm with. Annie, if you can imagine, doesn't get half of the attention from the people that I do. She's somewhat scared to go out by herself, and Snow doesn't invite her to the Capitol because everyone there thinks that she's completely mad. It isn't surprising that she wouldn't know her.

The way that she says that, though, like she thinks Annie and I were doing something a lot different than helping the poor, basically confirms my suspicions. If it truly is Daisy, she would've definitely been brainwashed.

"Annie Cresta," Annie says, holding out her hand. She doesn't look at the girl when she says it, though, instead, she tosses me a questioning look.

"Oh, so you're a Victor too," she says, her smile growing bigger. "What would too Victor's be doing walking around out in the rain so early?" Annie smiles gently.

"We were helping people from where I used to live, out by the old pier." The girl looks surprised, her jaw dropping open a little bit.

"Wow, I never would've expected to hear about Finnick Odair helping the poor."

"Annie held a gun to my head. I didn't really want to go," I mutter sarcastically, not thrilled with that view of me. Annie, however, isn't thrilled with my sarcasm. She jabs her elbow into my ribs, and I jump.

"He likes to be sarcastic," Annie says. The girl laughs.

"I never would've guessed." Wow, sarcasm must be a family trait.

"Why did you stop us?" I ask her, wanting to hear her say it, to confirm what I'm so sure is true.

"I wanted to meet you," she says with a glint in her eyes.

"You don't seem to have a very high opinion of me. Why would you want to meet me?"

With another quick smile, she turns to leave.

"Just to say that I did. Now I'm sorry, but I have to get to work. My father is going to be very mad at me if I'm late again."

"Wait," I call after her. She stops. "What's your name?"

"Daisy," she says, then skips away. I want to chase her, but I just stand there and watch her leave. I don't know why. I just can't chase her. I'm worried that I'm not going to be able to see her again, not without my dad finding out. Of course, I'm wrong again.

So, that's one thing that takes my mind off of Johanna. Then there's the whole Rafe thing. Remember how we had that sort of fight about me and all the women of the Capitol? Well, his girlfriend, Lavinia, sort of gets involved with that, too. Annie, who's started sort of remembering what Snow is doing to me, gets in several arguments with her after Lavinia tells her to dump me. Lavinia also happens to give me a huge lecture about responsibility.

Okay, she's a nice girl, really with her easy humor she's perfect for Rafe. But she's also extremely unimpressed with my morals, and it gets to the point where I just try to avoid her so we don't get into arguments. This gets Rafe and I fighting again, especially since him and Lavinia are virtually joined at the hip, so I end up avoiding him as well.

"What is your problem with her?" Rafe finally asks me one day when he's actually alone.

"Well, maybe it has something to do with her cute little nickname." She's started calling me Coriolanus Jr., which I find extremely annoying. Incase you aren't familiar with it, that happens to be my loving President's first name.

"Okay, maybe the nickname is out of line," he says, "but it's not like you haven't earned it."

"You have no idea," I spit at him. He shakes his head.

"I don't see what's so complicated about it."

"Not everything is as it seems," I tell him.

"What in the hell is that supposed to mean?" he asks.

"I can't tell you," I say weakly. He throws his hands in the air in frustration.

"This is why you drive me nuts," he shouts. "You act so normal. Being accused of being anything other than a saint drives you insane. Yet, you are such a creep. You and Annie have been together for years, but you cheat on her every chance you get. For crying out loud, maybe once, maybe it'd be understandable. But every fucking time you set foot in the Capitol, you sleep with five different women, even if they're twice your age.

"It can't be money you want, you're rich enough that you could clean your ass with money if you wanted to. Fun? Isn't your life exciting enough? And if you wanted to forget, why do you treat alcohol like poison? That's all I could think of, but none of it fits."

"Sometimes, it's just because you have no choice," I tell him.

"Enough of that shit. Tell me what is wrong with you." He tries to make me meet his gaze, but I look down.

"I can't," I whisper.

"Then quit getting mad at Lavinia for confronting you about it. She has reason to dislike the Capitol, and she isn't thrilled that I'm so close to someone who seems like he was born there."

"Is that really what you think, that I act like I'm from the Capitol?"

"Only if there's a rich girl around," he says. With that, I give him an ultimatum.

"I'm not able to change, so either lay off and tell your stupid girlfriend to get off my back, or stay away from me."

"Finnick-" he says.

"I want to hear your answer right now."

"This isn't fair, I'm just trying to help you," he says, suddenly not angry anymore. My resolve fades, and I think about letting him out of this, but he needs to make a decision now, or we'll just fight about it more.

"I'll lay off," he finally says. "But please, think about what you're doing."

"I do, all the time," I whisper. Then I walk off. I'm happy, but I'm also tired off all of this. I immediately head to Annie's house, because no matter what, I know that she'll comfort me.

So, fast-forward another month after that fight, and Annie and I are helping out in the slums again. Since that first time, we've been coming back every week or so, giving away food and money, and even helping to restore some of the houses. We never stayed as late as we had before, however, and we usually back to Victor's Village by two or three. Then, one day, one of the families invited us to stay for supper. We ate, talking with them some, and didn't get to leave again until six or so. By then, all of the workers were coming home from the boats.

"Do you remember Daisy?" I ask Annie. She nods.

"If you see her, please help me find her. I just want to talk.' Annie smiles up at me.

"Are you missing your littler sister?" she asks.

"That's the problem," I tell her. "I can't miss her because I don't know her. She's my own sister, and I've spoken to her once in over six years."

So Annie and I look, until finally I catch a glimpse of a bronze braid.

"Daisy," I call. She stops, then turns to look at me. She still looks tired, and her cheeks are wind burnt, her hair damp from salt water, but that does stop a gap-toothed smile from spreading across her face.

"It's been a long time, hasn't it Mister Odair," she says.

"Too long, if I had a say," I tell her. Her green eyes light up.

"You aren't talking about meeting in the street last time, are you?"

"Not really."

"So you remember who I am?" she asks, and I almost think I hear hope in her voice.

"Yeah, I do." Then she completely shocks me by throwing her arms around me, her smile even bigger.

"I always thought it was so cool, that you were my brother. Dad doesn't like you very much, but I always sort of thought that he might've been jealous, because you seem nice enough right now."

"Ah, he's not jealous," I tell her with a smile. "He never liked me much before those Games either."

"I think that's just his personality," she says, and I have to laugh.

"I don't think I'm going to argue that."

"Speaking of that, he's going to pop a gasket if I don't get home real quick. I do want to see you again, though, even if I'm not supposed to. You're my brother," she says, like it explains everything.

"Why don't you hate me?" I ask her quickly.

"Because, Dad is a jerk, Mom was a jerk, so my family sort of sucked. I guess I just imagined you as a hero, but I never could talk to you, because I'm always working."

"I'm sorry," I tell her, really meaning it. I know how she feels.

"I'm used to it," she says, then hugs me one more time. "I work every day except Thursday and Sunday, until six. Just look around here, and I'll find you, if you want."

"That'd be nice. Tomorrow?" I ask.

"Tomorrow," she agrees. Then she walks off.

From that day on, we meet almost every day, getting to know each other again. So I guess I'm happy about that, even though she's sort of started taking Rafe's place, since we still aren't exactly friendly again. I guess with every good comes some bad.

So, as you can imagine, Johanna Mason was the last thing on my mind. She turned into just another victor. Let's just say that didn't last very long.


	31. You Never Know

A/N- This is the three month anniversary of starting this story, so I am giving you all this chapter as a special present…. I hope. As always, please read and review, and remember that criticism is as welcome as praise. Thank you.

Finnick 20, Annie 18

* * *

It's nine months after the Games before I'm called to the Capitol again. I guess I was pleasantly surprised that it had taken that long, but that doesn't mean that seeing another letter didn't hurt. I'd actually gotten to hoping that maybe, just maybe I wouldn't have to go until the next Games, since they're only three months away now. Of course, Snow wouldn't allow that to happen, would he now?

Would you blame me if I said that I didn't tell Rafe I was leaving? Well, I don't. I tell Annie. She gives me a hug and whispers that it's going to be okay. I tell Mags and earn myself a sad look. I even tell Daisy, who looks up at me with her beautiful eyes and says that since I'm leaving her, that I at least owe her a present of some sort. Yet, I don't say a single word to Rafe. I just leave.

* * *

Now I feel slightly guilty about that, watching District 4 shrink behind me as the train speeds off, but I also know that I saved myself from another fight. We aren't exactly acting like best friends right now, and that would've just made everything worse.

I watch a rerun of my Games most of the way to the Capitol. It's gotten to the point where instead of cringing at seeing myself like that, I more or less wish I was back there. I think that trip to the arena was the main thing that started that slightly morbid thinking, but it could just be that I've started thinking differently too.

Whatever it is, seeing myself in that arena makes me wish that life would be as simple as it is in the arena. People are trying to kill you, so you kill them. Easy as that. No extra variables to consider, nothing extra in the equation. Even Arowana is just another piece in the Games. Sure, she made it more interesting, but at the end of the day, she ended up just dying like the rest of them. In real life, though, there are so many more things to think about.

Like right now, how I can't stop wondering if going to the Capitol again and again is even worth it. Oh, I know that I'm not just going to tell Snow that I refuse to do it. That would just end up with Daisy or my father dead and an axe dangling over Annie's head. No, the only way I'd get out of this without hurting anyone else would be to just off myself.

I know I won't do that, though. That's the kind of move a coward would make, someone who couldn't stand the trash that life threw at them. I'm better than that, right?

Yeah, easy to think that now, when there isn't a forty year old woman crawling all over me, when Rafe's girlfriend isn't calling me President Snow, and when I'm not reading things that have been sent to me by the people of the Districts that tell me what a disappointment I am. It's easy to think when I'm mostly absorbed by what's going on in my Games, back when things _were_ easy, mentally easy anyway.

I sigh, forcing those thoughts out of my head. I'm not going to kill myself. I've messed up enough in this life, and I want my final act to be something that I can be proud of, not something that will completely ruin whatever blackened legacy I'm already going to leave behind.

* * *

I arrive at the Capitol early the next morning. Since I doubt there are any chicks waiting in the wings at four a.m., I just go to sleep right away.

The next morning, I head out into the main part of town, thinking of what I should get Daisy. She's damn lucky that she happens to have a sweet smile, because her sarcasm and overconfidence definitely wouldn't be enough to send me into the heart of enemy territory for her.

Okay, that's a bunch of bull. I love that kid, probably because she's a carbon copy of me, from her eyes to her hair, to the way that she can't say a sincere statement unless the situation absolutely warrants it. She's an angel, and I actually enjoy myself when I search for something to get her, just because I keep imagining the smile on that little fart's face when I give her the present.

I spend over two hours searching for something perfect, until finally I come across a book filled with pictures from across Panem. It doesn't show the true districts, like you can't see the starving people of 12, or the huge barbwired fences that I remember from 11, but there are colorful, vibrant pictures of the good parts of the Districts.

The book is obviously made for Capitol citizens, to convince them that the Districts are wonderful, beautiful places, but at least it shows what the huge mountains of District 2 look like, or the never-ending sea of grain that sweeps through Eleven. Even the factories of eight seem tall and strong, with clean metallic smokestacks. When I was Daisy's age, I hadn't seen any of this. Our textbooks at school are barren of pictures, probably because they want us knowing as little as possible about the other districts. I doubt that Snow would be thrilled that I was taking the book back to Four, but I want Daisy to see how big the nation is outside of District Four, so I buy it for her.

Present found, and my day over halfway gone, I hurry back to my quarters to get some rest before what's sure to be a long night.

I wake up a few hours later, disappointed when I see that the sun has set. The clock reads eight p.m., and I know that Snow will have someone ready for me since I hadn't made an effort to find someone myself at all today. Usually, if I troll for chicks on my own, he's happy enough that he won't force many more on me. Today, I just didn't feel like it. Sure enough, just a half hour later, there's a knock on my door, and I let in a woman around my age, with orange colored skin and silver tattoos crawling up and down her arms and forming intricate designs on her face. It could be worse.

She tells me her name when she first comes in. I think it starts with an 'e'. I think. Well, we head out to one of the Capitol's million bars, and I watch her down glass after glass of some bright green concoction while I pretend to drink whatever she ordered for me. I think it has enough alcohol in it to kill a small horse, or at least it smells like it.

I don't drink, at all. I have too many things that I can't risk saying, and I have too many people watching me to risk losing control for even a moment. So she drinks, I pretend to drink, and the citizens of the Capitol laugh and dance and talk behind me, much louder than they need to. It's like I'm surrounded by a pod of squealing, cosmetically altered dolphins. They don't even notice when I bury my head in my hands, trying to block out the roar of high pitched voices.

Then what's-her-name grabs my arm and drags me out of the place, giggly and drunk.

"This is going to be _so_ fun Finnick," she gushes, breaking into peals of laughter as she keeps pulling me towards my place. She doesn't talk, just keeps laughing like she wants to fill the silence. Eventually her voice trails off, though, even though she's still bouncing down on the balls of her feet.

That's when I hear a girl sobbing. I look around, my eyes finally settling on a small figure with a hood pulled over her face. Her entire body is shaking with sobs, and she's curled into a ball, leaning against the wall of the building beside mine.

"E-e-, um Chick, can you wait here for a second," I tell her. She just bursts into laughter, so I leave her where she is and carefully make my way over to the girl.

"Do you need help?" I ask softly, worried that she's hurt or something. Even if she is from the Capitol, I'd want to get her help. The girl curls up even more tightly, pulling her hood down even more over her face.

"I don't need some stupid Capitol pimp's help," she chokes out, barely able to speak through a tear-clogged voice. I look at her in surprise. She's not from here.

"Who are you?" I ask her. She shakes her head.

"Go away."

"Please, I just want to help. I'm not from the Capitol either," I tell her. She lifts her head, then. Her face is still shadowed from the hood, but I know that she can see me.

And as soon as she figures out who I am, she jumps back like she's been shocked. Of course, the wall is right there, and she whacks her head. I reflexively reach out to her, but she cringes away.

"Don't touch me Finnick Odair," she snaps. I hold my hands up.

"Okay, but please just tell me what's wrong."

"Get away from me," is her only response.

"Please, I don't want to just leave-"

"Of course you don't want to leave me here," she spits out, venom filling her words. "You want to take me back to your room, to "help" me, don't you?" I won't deny that those words hurt. I even fall back a little, like she actually hit me.

"I swear, I won't touch you. Just tell me what's wrong. You need help." She shakes her head.

"Nothing that _you _can do will help me." I notice that her voice isn't sad anymore, it's just pissed off. I guess anger is easier than sorrow, I know that.

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do," she says. Then she explodes out of that little ball she's in and takes of running. Despite swearing not to touch her, I chase after her, and end up tackling her to the ground. She squirms around, kicking and throwing punches like she thinks I'm going to rape her or something. I open my mouth to tell her to calm down when I notice her face. At first, it's so pale and tearstained, those sharp brown filled with so much true sorrow, that I don't immediately recognize her. Then her face registers in my brain, and I know who this is.

"Get off of me you creep," she shouts.

"Johanna," I whisper. "Please, calm down. I just want to help you. Maybe we could go somewhere and talk, and you could tell me what happen-"

"I don't want to sleep with you," she screams, loudly enough that anyone who's still out this late stares at us. I don't get too embarrassed.

"Well, that's a good thing, because that wasn't what I had in mind," I tell her. She shakes her head.

"It's that what you always have in mind?" she asks.

"Please, just come with me," I beg. "You know, I'd be too afraid to try something. You'd probably come after me with an axe." She swallows and shakes her head.

"I don't need you knowing my problems, Finnick Odair."

"Maybe I can help."

"There's nothing you can do."

"There's has to be something," I say. Then I get off of her, holding a hand out to help her up. She ignores it and gets up, then dusts herself off.

"This is a waste of time," she mutters, but she does follow me. I notice that as soon as we stop fighting, the tears start welling up in her eyes again. I pretend not to notice as I lead her back to my place. What's-her-name just happens to step in front of us, but she won't be too hurt if I ditch her now.

"What about-" she starts.

"Why don't you just go screw yourself?" I ask, then leave her standing there, gaping at me. I'm not too worried. She'll find a way back home, I don't doubt that. Really, she's probably drunk enough right now that she'll probably forget everything anyway.

I take her to my room, but be very careful to stay away from the bed, setting her on a couch, and sitting in a chair across from her.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?" I ask her gently. She looks down.

"I don't trust you."

"I don't expect you to."

"You're going to tell Snow about this and laugh at me."

"I'm his lapdog, so of course there's no other option," I tell her, my tone oozing with sarcasm. Her big brown eyes look up and meet mine. Of course, she blushes and looks away. I really rather would've been born ugly, seriously. It's annoying when you can't talk to a girl without her doing something like that, not to mention that ugly tributes aren't forced into become prostitutes.

"So you won't tell him?" she asks hopefully.

"No, I won't tell him." I worry for a second about what she's going to say, hoping that the bugs in here are really gone. I've disabled them, otherwise he'd know that I knew more than I was letting on. I guess that if they did work, he would've confronted me about my spy work by now.

"You'll think it's funny," she says cautiously, like she's trying to convince herself against telling me.

"I doubt that." She looks at me one more time, then takes a deep breath.

"President Snow killed my mother," she says, and her tears start flowing again. "He told- he told me that I had to-" her words die down as she starts sobbing again. I carefully go over to the couch and sit down beside her, tentatively putting a hand on her shoulder. I swallow, knowing exactly what happened.

"He said that you owed all the wonderful men of the Capitol something, he told you that if you didn't do as he said, that he'd kill your mother, but you didn't believe him. You refused, and he killed her," I say softly. She looks up at me in surprise.

"How do you-" I close my eyes, not wanting to look at her.

"President Snow has sent me my mother's head in the mail, because I wasn't being faithful to my duties to him, to the Capitol," I tell her. She gets closer to me.

"Why?" she whispers to me. "Why would he do that?"

"Because, suffering is the only thing that truly makes him happy," I tell her.

"My mother," she says through the tears, "she was the only person that I cared about. Now, now she's gone."

I put my arm around her, and she leans against me, tears flowing freely down her face. After a few minutes, when she seems to really realize that I'm not going anywhere, she grabs my hand and clings onto it for dear life.

I hold her that entire night, whispering that she's going to be okay. Both of us eventually fall asleep, but when she wakes up, the tears start again.

Then it seems like she can't cry anymore, and she just lays there quietly for a very long time.

"Who do you love?" she asks me softly. "Who would you keep doing this for?"

"Annie Cresta," I whisper. The thought of her makes me smile, and even though it's probably a little low, I wish that she was here with me, not Johanna.

"The mad girl," Johanna breathes. "Of all people, Finnick Odair would go through this for a mad girl."

"She's not mad," I argue. Johanna smiles.

"From what I've seen of her on TV, she probably sees this world exactly how it is, but is just too sweet to pretend that everything is fine."

"I'd say that's pretty close," I say.

"Well, I'm sorry to say that I'm not as sweet as your girlfriend. Snow would look good with an axe stuck out of his head. Tell me, Finnick, do you think I'll ever get a chance to do something like that?" I smile.

"Well, if you do, you'll have to fight me for it, because I think a trident would be more decorative."

"I think he'd look better with both," she says, and I find myself laughing.

"It's a deal, then. If you ever get him locked up somewhere, please give me a call."

"I owe you that," she says, then gets up and starts heading out the door. At the last second, she turns around. "And, Odair?"

"Yeah?"

"If you tell anyone that you saw me cry, President Snow isn't going to be the only one with an axe through his head."

"Don't worry, this is between you and me," I assure her. She gives me a halfhearted smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes.

"It better." Again, she starts to leave, but turns around at the last second. "Thank you," she says sincerely, but before I can say anything else, she leaves.

Just to tell you, I never saw Johanna Mason cry again after that day. Never even a single tear.


	32. Xavier Doctor on Life

A/N- Okay, I know that by the time you get to the end of this, you'll probably be mad at me for glossing over so much stuff, but there really was very little I could've stuck in there. I do apologize, but I didn't want to stick a bunch of unnecessary filler chapters in there. Please understand, and just by what's coming up next, you have got to know that the next chapter is going to be so much more exciting. Thank you. Please read and review.

* * *

"Why would whoever made us just throw a bunch of people onto the Earth and watch us eat each others guts out? Sure, everyone's happy sometime, but does that really ever last? Seriously, people spend too much time trying to get power, when it's pointless in the end. You could close your eyes one day, and never open them again, and then what could would power do?"

"When you die, people are going to forget you. Everyone that you've ever touched is going to eventually pass away, and then if you're lucky, you'll just be a name in history books, or maybe written down in someone's family tree. So why would that power that everyone truly wants even matter? If you're going to be forgotten anyway, wouldn't it be better to just live your life piece by piece, second by second, and enjoy every moment as much as you can?"

"Wow, you've got yourself a decent sized brain, don't you Kid?" I ask Doc. That's not his actual name. His name is Xavier Doctor. I don't call him Doc because of his last name, but rather because if he'd be able to live to adulthood, he'd end up as one of those guys that helped Annie, a doctor that focuses on what's going on in your head. Speeches like that, that'll make you think for a very long time, flow out of this kid's mouth every other second. He was an orphan, I think, but winded up living with this rich family after prowling the streets for six years after his parents died in a fishing accident.

"Are you even listening to me?" he asks, shaking his head to get his shaggy black hair out of his face, his huge brown eyes begging me to pay attention.

"Yeah, I'm listening," I assure him, fighting to keep my eyes open. It's not that listening to Doc isn't interesting, but I'm starting to like him, and that is the last thing that I want to do. He's smart, I'm not going to question that, but he also looks like the type of person who spent six years living off of scraps. He doesn't have a shred of meat on his bones, and he's deaf in one ear from an infection he never got treated. He won't win the Games, but he knows it too, which is more impressive than if he thought that he would win.

"You know, I don't even think that I'm going to try," he continues, fiddling with a rubber band that he had around his wrist. I glance at him in surprise.

"Are you stupid?" I ask, even though he obviously isn't.

"If I fight in these Games, I'll be changing myself, turning into a savage, and for what? I'm going to die eventually anyway, so why should I turn my back on everything I stand for, just to live for another day, or even just another hour?" I sigh and look at him.

"You're making me feel like shit, you know that, right?" His dark eyes get wide, and he holds up his hands.

"No, no, I didn't mean it like that. You were favored to win, you had something to fight for. I have no chance."

"You don't know that," I say, even though it's sort of obvious. The kid has the brain to be lethal, but he doesn't have the skills or ruthlessness to actually do what his brain tells him.

"I know I'm going to die," he says, then squeezes his eyes shut.

"You're brave," I tell him, "you actually have the guts to die the right way." He opens his eyes slowly.

"Who ever thought that someone like you would be calling me brave." I lean back in my chair, looking out the window at the land that's zooming past us. I think that we're going through District 2. We have to be close to the Capitol. In a minute, Alva is going to poke her head in this room to announce that there's a half hour left.

"I'm not brave, I'm just not smart enough to be afraid," I say. He laughs, a small smile making it's way onto his face. He has an amazing smile, one that I know will be hard to forget. It touches his eyes, and it's so amazingly sincere that you have to smile back. This year is going to be harder than last year, I can feel that already. This kid is so purely good that I can't imagine watching him die.

"You're actually decent, Finnick," he says.

"And you're so much more than that," I mutter, then I leave before he can say something else that'll just hurt me later.

As soon as an Avox comes by to take Doc and Kauna, the girl tribute, to the Remake Center, I rush Mags to the floor where most of the mentors are already talking and laughing. I crane my neck to see if I can find Johanna through the crowds of people. I haven't seen her since that one night, and I want to talk to her again, to get to know her better.

"Looking for me Pretty Boy?" someone asks. Just so you know, it's not Johanna. I don't even have to look to know that it's Haymitch.

"Of course. You have no idea how much I missed you," I say. He snorts.

"That's convincing. So, how're your tributes looking this year?"

"A twelve year old girl and a fourteen year old boy with legs as thick as my arms."

"Shit, your district hasn't been that out of it for at least ten years," he says, then he takes a swig of whatever he's got in the bottle he's holding. "But Twelve, lord, I don't think there's a competent child in the whole District. We got a Twelve year old too, and then a girl who's got enough extra pounds to feed half the Seam. I don't know where her parents scrounged up enough food to feed that lard ass."

"Gees, you're sure friendly."

"Hell yeah, I am." Just then, Chaff comes strutting over, and snatches the bottle out of Haymitch's hands. I decide that now would be a good time to find Johanna.

"I know that you're scintillating company, but I'm looking for someone else."

"He wants to go find another girlfriend," Chaff chortles. I give him a playful shove.

"You know, business is business," I joke with a half smile.

"Just stay away from my niece," he calls, breaking into laughter.

"I got enough of her last time," I shout back, and both him and Haymitch start chortling.

I find Johanna a minute later. She's sitting in a corner, her arms wrapped tightly around her chest, her eyes darting back and forth nervously.

"If I didn't know better, I'd almost say that you looked afraid," I say from behind her. She turns around quickly, no doubt ready to bitch at whatever overly obnoxious and/or drunk victor was acting like such an ass. Then she sees it's me, and I can almost see her words come to a screeching halt at the end of her tongue.

"Miss me?" I ask, flashing a hopeful smile. I see her struggle not to smile back, but she just has to.

"You wish," she fires at me. Then she jerks her head at Haymitch and Chaff, who are now onto another bottle of some other alcoholic beverage. "I didn't expect that you'd get along so nicely with the drunkards," she says.

"Aw, they're the nicest ones," I say.

"Yeah," she snorts, "because they aren't sober enough to really know what's going on."

"Do you blame them?" I ask her.

"Hell no. I'm thinking about going over there and asking for a bottle of my own," she says.

"You'll want it even more before you're done with the first week in these Games. Well, unless my tributes die. Then I'll come and keep you company," I tell her, even tacking on the Capitol's favorite smile. She shakes her head.

"You try to come in, and I'll contact the Peacekeepers, tell them that you're bothering us."

"They love me too much," I tell her. "They wouldn't believe a word you say." She grins up at me.

"Really? Because you know, you're getting old. You won what, seven years ago? They've probably all but forgotten about you." I open my mouth to argue, but before I can, we're all ushered to our luxury box for the opening ceremonies.

In no time the chariots are rolling, district after district rolling out of the remake center. I close my eyes, doing my best not to imagine that twenty three of those kids will be dead.

Yet, just under three weeks later, that's a reality. A boy from District Two won, which isn't surprising. In all reality, it's about time.

He's the one that killed Doc, the boy from Two. It was quick, at least. He snuck up behind him, and with his deaf ear, Doc never even heard him. One second he was standing there, his intelligent brown eyes almost seeming to smile, and the next, his throat was slit.

It was the fifth day, though, which was a lot longer than I thought he'd make it. He didn't kill anyone, though. He didn't even try. At the start, he started running, and he basically did nothing other than just try to get away. Like he said, he never let himself change for the Games. He died, and he died exactly like he wanted to, like a decent human being.

I probably would've cried if it was three years ago. Now, though, I know that very little would manage to get tears in my eyes. I've seen everything that I could possibly see, I've hit rock bottom and come back. Watching a boy that I've known for a week die wasn't hard. It wasn't as hard as getting my mother's head in the mail, or watching Eliza die one of the slowest, most drug out deaths I've ever seen. I think that I've got the hang of this watching people die thing.

So, as I was saying, this guy from Two wins the 72nd Hunger Games. That's basically the end of the story. If I'm being completely honest, I'd say that it's the end of anything worth saying for a very long time.

The next year is repetitive. A boy from One wins the 73rd Games. I keep up my work for the President. Annie doesn't get better, but she doesn't get worse either. Rafe dumps his girlfriend about three months after the 72nd Games, and our friendship slowly heals.

There are no more epidemics, no major killing sprees, no more deaths, not of people that I truly care about anyway. Daisy and I grow closer, until she starts sneaking out to see me. Every day, I tell myself that I'm going to confront my father, but I never get the guts to. It doesn't matter. He doesn't pay very close attention to her anyway. She's just a child, and what's that compared to money and his job.

I guess that I could mention that Mags doesn't mentor the 73rd Games. She's too old, and her health is declining. So instead of her, Felix volunteers to go, so that Annie doesn't have to. It didn't feel right with no Mags there, but because Annie was safely at home, I dealt with it.

Oh, and you remember that rebellion that we've been discussing the last nine years? Well, from what Plutarch has been telling me, everything is in place in District 13. He'd found out more about them, and not only are they willing to help us, but they'll also have weapons and supplies that'll give us an advantage. What we need now, then, is basically a plan, and someone to set that plan into action. So far, that person hasn't come around, and I'm not so sure that they ever well. Even Plutarch is growing desperate. He basically said that we'll give it another two years, and if someone doesn't magically appear, then we'll give Johanna the job.

I personally don't think that's a good idea for multiple reasons. The main one is that people won't trust her. They know she's an actor. Another big thing, though, is her personality. As I've gotten to know her, I've figured out one huge thing, and that is that she has a temper. You won't know that she's mad, she'll seem perfectly fine and happy, but as soon as you look away, they'll be a knife in your back. She's never done that to me, but I've seen it done to many others, and I know that the districts wouldn't appreciate that. That means that I start praying like crazy for someone to come along and start the rebellion. A victor, of course, and preferably not one from one of the Capitol's pet districts.

Now, the 74th Games are rolling around, and this is one of the last chances for those prayers to get answered. Two more years, and it'll be Johanna, and we'll be screwed.

I take a deep breath as I walk out to that stage for the Reaping, and throw up one more quick prayer to any random heavenly being that happens to be listening. Then I plop down in my seat, and listen to Alva do the same introduction that she's done since I was old enough to have my name in those balls.

"_This has got to be the year," _I think. God, please let it be the year.


	33. Isn't it a Death Wish?

A/N- I'm planning on another somewhat boring chapter after this, and then I already have very exciting plans for the parts of the 74th Hunger Games that Susan Collins didn't happen to cover…I cannot wait. Well, please enjoy this chapter. Thank you so much. Please read and review.

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That night on the train, after we're all done eating, we go to watch the Reapings, as always. The first Eleven Reapings fly by quickly, including our extremely unexceptional one. Neither Felix or I are excited about the two tributes from District Four. We actually drew straws to see who got which tribute, just because neither of them have a chance. One is a huge, hulking boy named Rowdy Trottel. I know this sounds stereotypical of big strong people, but he's just a stupid cow. The muscles are big enough, but I think the brain never quite fully formed.

Then, the other tribute, is a fifteen year old girl named Mia Marisco. She knows what she's doing, she's smart, and strong, but she simply is not ruthless. She isn't like Doc, who thought of not killing as a moral thing. With Mia, it just isn't her personality. She might have the ability to actually kill someone, but she'd freak out afterwards, probably because she feels so sorry for what she did, even though I'm not sure she'd really mean it. I know this, because she accidentally stepped on a grasshopper on the way to the justice building, and she had somewhat of a mini episode.

So, I'm disappointed. Not only that, but I'm scared. With every district that goes by, my already almost nonexistent hope shrinks even more. Districts One and Two have their usual strong tributes, but they're exempt from this, because they're too close to the Capitol. District 5 has a girl that looks like she may be a contender, but even though the look in her eyes is that of a strong tribute, it isn't that of an actual leader. I can see that she wouldn't be able to truly step up and lead the Districts. There's something about her that doesn't leave an imprint. Even I forget about her by the time they show the Reapings from District 8, and I marked her as dangerous.

The only other tributes from those first eleven districts that stand out in my mind are the two from Eleven. The girl from that district is just tiny, and I can't help but think about how horrible it's going to be to watch her die, especially since seeing a twelve year old get reaped reminds me of Daisy, who missed the reaping age by about two weeks.

Then, the guy tribute, sticks in my mind simply because of his size. He's from Eleven, so you have to know that he has to know about survival and plants and things, and then you factor in the fact that it looks like he's part of an experiment with human growth hormones, and he's kind of hard to forget. I mean, this guy is bigger than Rafe, and he's seven years younger, so that's pretty unbelievable.

So, by the time it's ready to see the annually pathetic tributes from Twelve, I'm concentrating on that big guy from Eleven, Thresh, a lot more. He doesn't like look he'd talk much, but a guy that size doesn't need to talk. The Districts would take one look at him, and they'd scramble to follow us so that he wouldn't come and eat them for breakfast. He's from District 11, too, which makes it even better. I know that Chaff and Chastity would be able to talk to him then.

"Oh, not another one," Mia mumbles sadly, and I glance up at the screen to see another tiny girl making her way up to the stage. She can't be any older than twelve either.

Then, all of the sudden, you can hear someone screaming in the previously silent town square.

"Prim! Prim!" Then another girl runs up the stairs to the stage and throws the little girl behind her back.

"I volunteer," she gasps. "I volunteer as a tribute." I actually gape. I've never, ever, seen someone from Twelve volunteer. This is different, too, that's obvious. This girl, she's not exactly huge herself, and she can't be more than fifteen, sixteen at the absolute most. She's skinny, too. Not emancipated like some tributes I've seen from there, but by no means can she be getting enough to eat. So why would she volunteer?

Their escort tells the girl that she has to wait, but the mayor just shakes his head and says that it doesn't matter. It wouldn't, either. No one volunteers from Twelve, so it's not like there's exactly going to be a line forming.

So, the girl starts to walk up to the stage, when the little girl clamps onto her legs and starts screaming.

"No Katniss! No! You can't go!" The older girl, Katniss, just glares down at the small girl.

"Prim, let go," she snaps. When Prim doesn't move, she grits her teeth. "Let go!" I just sit there and watch the whole thing in confusion.

I'm even more confused when another guy who looks a lot like Katniss's brother, walks over and peels Prim off of her. He whispers something in her ear, then tows the little girl away. The whole thing makes almost not sense to me, but I'm transfixed, nonetheless. I guess I probably should've figured out what was going on, but it's so unlike what the Games usually entail that I don't quite think straight.

"Well, bravo! That's the spirit of the Games!" gushes the escort, even though this whole thing is actually kind of depressing. You can see that those three, Katniss, Prim, and that guy, are close. I know what it's like to watch someone that you love go through the Games, and it isn't fun. Actually, it drove me almost as crazy as Annie. I find myself hoping that Katniss will be able to win, just for those two people.

"What's your name?" the escort asks Katniss, even though with the screaming and everything, I think that most people already have that figured out.

"Katniss Everdeen." I swallow a lump that finds its way into my throat. That was her sister who they called. She risked death so that her sister wouldn't have to go into the arena.

"That's twisted," I spit.

"Calm down," Felix says, but he doesn't know. He doesn't know that next year, my sister is going to be there, and I know that if we don't get the damn war started soon, that Daisy is going to get thrown into the Games too, just because she's my sister. Only I can't take her place.

"I bet my buttons that was your sister. Don't want her to steal all the glory, do we? Come on everybody! Let's give a big round of applause to our newest tribute." I watch the crowd anxiously as the cameras pan out, no doubt wanting to get a view of the audience clapping. Then a small smile makes its way across my face as it becomes obvious that not a single one of them plans on listening to their escort. I can feel their disapproval, their hatred of the Capitol.

Then, everyone takes three fingers, puts them to their lips, then holds them out to Katniss. I don't know what it means, it's probably a District 12 custom, but it's obvious that it isn't anything celebratory. More like a good-bye maybe. I hear Mia start sniffling, and I put a hand on her shoulder.

"Why?" she asks softly.

"It just is," I whisper, even though I find myself praying that it won't be for much longer.

Then, with Mia's tears running down her face, and Felix shaking his head sadly, Haymitch comes tearing up to Katniss. His eyes are bloodshot and his skin seems to be sagging. He's in his natural state, which is, of course, shit faced drunk.

"Look at her. Look at this one!" he bellows, tossing an arm around her shoulders. She staggers a little under his weight, and the look on her face is priceless. It looks like she's ready to throw him off the stage. "I like her!" She cringes away from him. I can only imagine what his breath must smell like, being that close to her. I feel bad for her, truly I do. Yet, that's not enough to stop me from have to struggle not to laugh.

"Lots of…" he searches for a word, his eyes rolling back up into his head as he thinks. "Spunk," he finally spits out. "More than you." He almost falls off of her, then stumbles another couple feet closer to the edge of the stage. "More than you!" he hollers. I say a quick prayer for him to shut up, knowing that he's actually drunk enough to be yelling at the Capitol. Then, as he opens his mouth to continue, he sways dangerously for a second before losing his balance completely. He falls off the stage, knocking himself unconscious.

I'll admit, I laughed. I laughed my head off. That was the most entertaining thing that I've seen in years, and believe me, I've seen a lot.

Then their escort, trying to salvage the reaping, pipes up again, warbling about how exciting the Reaping is as she attempts to straighten her messed up clown wig, which is in danger of falling off.

She heads over to the boy's ball, grabs a piece of paper, and hurries back to the podium, most likely trying to get the boy's name off before Haymitch regains consciousness.

"Peeta Mellark," she calls. Then this brawny guy climbs onto the stage, and I force a disappointed smile on my face. He's big and strong, but it almost looks like he's trying not to cry. He has that same attitude that Mia does, and I know that there's no way he can survive long.

It's not like I should've been excited anyway. I guess the whole scene with Katniss and her sister, and then Haymitch, had me thinking that something special was going to happen. But it's just a boy. I guess it wouldn't matter if my clone walked up to the stage, though. With Haymitch as the mentor, they really don't stand much of a chance. They're from District 12 anyway, and none of them ever know how to survive in the Games.

I go back to thinking about Thresh, the whole scene from Twelve slowly fading from my mind.

"Well, now that that's over, we should all go to bed," Felix says, standing up. Rowdy grumbles something, then gets up and lumbers into the hallway, hopefully listening. Mia doesn't move.

"I'm going to have nightmares," she announces.

"Yeah? And? I have nightmares every night," I tell her. She shakes her head.

"Please, Finnick. I don't want to sleep."

"There's nothing to fear but fear itself," I say, then leave her there, hoping that she won't seriously stay up all night.

She doesn't. When I head to the kitchen to get something to eat an hour later, she's curled up in a little ball on the couch, sleeping. I consider moving her, but decide that she's fine where she is.

Instead, I go to be, wondering if Thresh is smart enough to lead a rebellion. Then I fall asleep, and my dreams turn back to Katniss and her younger sister. The last thing I remember is looking into Prim's sweet blue eyes and watching them turn green as I think of my own little sister.


	34. The Girl On Fire

Sorry that this is slightly later than usual, but I made the mistake of starting another story while this one is going on, and I've gotten somewhat obsessive with my shiny new story. If anyone's interested, it's going to be a Harry Potter one, and I'll probably post the first chapter in a week or so. Now that I've made that announcement, here's the chapter. I hope you like it. Please R&R.

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When I walk into the room where all of the mentors meet that next day, Haymitch is sulking in a corner. Chaff is his usually merry self, downing gulps of some kind of toxic substance, but Haymitch looks almost psychotic. I'm wary to walk over to him for fear that he's going to brain me or something, but because his attitude has me curious, I carefully go over there to check it out.

"Wow, you look crabby," I point out, looking down at him. He shoots me a steely glare. That's when I see it, when I know his problem. His eyes are completely clear. He hasn't had a single thing to drink. I think back at his two tributes, obviously better than most previous years. Does he really think that they have a chance? That's the only reason that I can think of that would cause him to quit the bottle.

"I can't drink," is his response, then he turns away.

"So, since you aren't completely shit faced yet, does that mean you think your tributes actually have a chance." He snorts.

"The boy doesn't have much of a chance. He's too good. The girl, though, she's something special. It isn't just what she did for her sister either, she's a hunter." He leans closer to me, then. "In our District, hunting is considered illegal, just like you guys can't catch extra fish. Katniss, though, she's been doing it anyway, since she was just a little thing. There aren't a half dozen others in our district that have the guts to do something like that, let alone the skill to get so many clean hits. If that girl can realize that hunting people aint that different from spearing a squirrel, then she has a real chance."

I'm surprised that he told me all that. Usually mentors keep their mouths shut about their tributes, unless they're saying that they're good or bad, which you can usually figure out anyway, if you have any experience whatsoever. I guess that just means Haymitch trusts me not to run off and give all that information to Rowdy and Mia. It's a step, anyway.

"I hope she does. After that thing with her sister, well, I think everyone loves her." I don't come out and say it, I don't even really hint at what I'm thinking, but Haymitch knows. He simply nods, then waves me away.

"Yeah, yeah. Now get lost, I'm not in the mood for people right now." I hold up my hands.

"I should go tell Chaff to give you a shot." Then he growls at me and starts to get up, and I hurry away. Chastity finds me next, and pulls me away from everyone else. When we were alone, she pulled me tightly to her side.

"We're ready," she breathed into my ear. "Anytime this thing is going to go, we have everything drawn out." Then she takes my hand and pulls me back into the room.

Between the whole thing with Katniss and what Chastity just told me, I'm actually in a fairly good mood, despite the impending Games, which, of course, always suck.

"Hey Finnick," a familiar voice says from behind me. I turn around to see Johanna grinning at me. I quickly get up and walk over to where she's standing, giving her a quick hug.

"You miss me?" I asked. She shouldn't have, not that much. These past few months, she's only called me every other night, and I'll admit that I sort of started looking forward to the calls. Now that Rafe and I aren't on the best of terms, I'd have to say that she's become my best friend. Like Annie, she gets everything that I'm going through, and she doesn't judge me by things that she doesn't fully understand, like Rafe still does.

"Of course," she says sweetly, "not." I roll my eyes at her.

"I can tell when you're lying. You couldn't fool a two year old," I joke.

"I believe that I might have fooled you once," she says.

"Yeah, along with everyone else in Panem." She laughs, and we start circling around the room, talking and joking until it's time for the opening ceremonies. I'm somewhat excited to see what Silvia managed to do with our tributes, since she always has something that's somewhat unique.

She did good too. Both of them look amazing. Or at first they do. Then, once the sun has set and darkness has fallen over the Capitol, the District 12 chariot pulls out of the remake center. I'll admit, I do gape. I think that the rest of Panem does too.

"Oh, my, Gosh," someone else in the mentor's box says. I don't know who. Probably one of the tributes from two, because no one else uses a voice like that.

"She's beautiful," Chastity said.

"I'm going to ask him to marry me," Johanna followed.

"Cinna's a frickin' genius," Haymitch said, referring to who I'm guessing is there stylist. I'm also guessing that it's his first year, because I would have remembered someone who could pull of something that totally and utterly amazing.

The two tributes from District 12 were clothed in simple black unitard. And that's about where the simple ended. They wore headpieces and capes that were on fire! Not only that, but whoever applied their makeup must have been brilliant, because the flames cast perfect, eerie shadows on their faces. They were terrifying, and they were perfect. Well, Katniss was terrifying I guess. Not that I remember what Haymitch said about Peeta, I realize that he was right. That boy's bright blue eyes are way too innocent for him to be much good at all in the arena. I'm sure he has the physical skills, but it takes so much more than that to kill.

"Haymitch, remember what I told you earlier," I said. He nods, an actual smile making its way across his face. He looked happy, and even better, he looked hopeful. I think that every mentor in that room, the ones from the rebelling districts anyway, is hopeful. This girl, this amazing girl, will never be able to leave anyone's mind. Not after the thing with her sister, and definitely not after this. I smile the rest of the night, even as I'm watching the recaps with my own not as brilliant tributes.

"I wish I was from District 12," Mia said dreamily when she saw their costumes. I smack the back of her head.

"They starve, they have no money, and all of their tribute have to be mentored by Haymitch. Now, who would you want as a mentor, me, or him?" Mia rolled her eyes.

"I didn't mean like that. I meant that I want to be from a district where they can set people on fire." I laugh, just because that sounds so wrong. Although, from what I've heard about some districts, I wouldn't be surprised if the Capitol did set people on fire.

"It's just appearances. You don't know if they have talent or not. Wait until training, and when you kick butt and score a twelve, everyone will forget about them."

"You really think so?" No.

"Of course I do." Then she kept her mouth shut for a while, and I even got a chance to feel good about my self. I may have made the last couple weeks of Amana's life shit, and Doc may have made those couple weeks of my life feel like shit because such a good kid died, but this time, I'm going to make sure that everyone is all happy. These are happy times. Remember, there's a girl, and if she's as good as Haymitch thinks, maybe, just maybe we've finally found that tribute.

It's a good thing, too, because the threat of Johanna taking over was getting a little worrisome. I'm guessing her strategy would have something to do with take an axe and cut everyone's head off, and that wouldn't work out very well at all.

That next morning at breakfast, I do my best to mentor Mia, even though I'm really not into it. I want Katniss to win, and even though it's really, really cruel of me, I don't want anything that I tell Mia to end up causing Katniss to get killed. So I just hang back a little bit and give casual advice. Like don't die, or join the Careers if you think you can trust them, and try to get weapons, but only if you're sure you can get out alive.

I could tell her other things. I could tell her to let the Games take over her head, to let them warp her into a monster so she has a chance of winning. I could tell her to hide in trees and jump unsuspecting tributes, but I don't. that isn't just because I don't want her to win, however. It's also because I know that she can't win, and I don't want her to become something that she's not in the process. I did that, and even though I did win, I still regret it.

She just listens, nodding every once in a while. She's smarter than other tributes, I notice eventually. Even though she is too sweet, and she may freak out about little things, she's smart. She knows what's going to happen to her, I can tell that from the fear that's plain in her eyes. She's terrified, and I wish that I could do something to make it stop, but I can't. Even if I could, I wouldn't. In just a matter of days, she's going to be expected to fight to the death with other teenagers. It isn't fair for me to make her unafraid of something that should scare the crap out of her.

My next two days are pretty much similar to that. When Mia isn't training, I'm busy mentoring her as best as I can without getting too close to her. That's harder than it sounds, though. There's something about Mia that makes you love her. She's so innocent, so girlish, that her death seems almost as bad as Doc's. It's like knowing that in a few days, someone is going to kill your sister. Well, not quite that bad. I'm not as close to her as Daisy, but there's a trace of what I know I would feel.

When I'm not with Mia, I'm basically hanging out with Johanna. Haymitch's lack of alcohol has made him cryptic and unbearable, and without a buddy, Chaff has just been downing everything himself, so he isn't exactly he most conscious either. Chastity would be an option, but we don't have the easy friendship that formed so quickly between Johanna and me, so I tend to spend more time with the girl from District 7.

Well, and a hoard of girls from the Capitol. When I'm finished mentoring, and Rowdy and Mia are all snuggled up in bed, I still have to work. So, if you can imagine, I'm exhausted, and probably should be feeling grumpy. There are other things, though, that keep popping up to help me feel better.

Like Johanna's pep talks, which are horribly cheesy, but unbelievably funny. She'll just launch into a speech whenever she sees my shoulders sagging even just slightly, about how everything is just peachy, and you have to look beyond the imperfections. Then she uses these hand gestures and everything, which makes me laugh hard enough that I almost cry.

Even better than her, though, is Katniss Everdeen. Everyone is talking about her, and the buzz gets even louder after her private score from her training session flashes across the screen.

"Awe, she tied yours, Finnick," Mia says with a smile. I'm smiling too. Whenever she did to score that high, it had to have been impressive. That means that Haymitch was right. She doesn't just have the persona, but the talent as well. She'd be perfect, so perfect. The only thing that stands in the way of the rebellion starting is the Hunger Games. Twenty three other tributes. If Katniss can beat them, though, I know that everything will fall into place perfectly. It's with that hope that I sit through the interviews that night, anxiously waiting to see if Katniss will drop another bomb that will help the rebellion.

Her speech is good, she seems likeable, nice enough, but I'm disappointed that there isn't anything more to it. Then her district partner, Peeta Mellark, gives his speech, and he drops to bomb for her.

First of all, this guy is amazing. He has me laughing from the second that he steps up to do his interview. Then Caesar asked him if he had a girlfriend.

"Well, there is this one girl. I've had a crush on her ever since I can remember, but I'm pretty sure she didn't know I was alive until the reaping."

Aw, how sad. Or that's what I thought at first, anyway.

"She have another fellow?" Caesar asked her.

"I don't know, but a lot of boys like her."

"So, here's what you do. You win, you go home. She can't turn you down then, eh?" he asks, as if this would be the perfect solution. I'm thinking that if that boy manages to win, there's no way that Snow wouldn't sell him. His smile is too contagious, and too many people are starting to like him. Then, very few girls would want him anyway, not real ones.

"I don't think it's going to work out. Winning… won't help in my case," Peeta says sadly.

"Why ever not?"

"Because…because… she came here with me." I actually pump my fist. That boy is brilliant. He just put one of the final pieces in play for this thing. Now, Katniss Everdeen isn't just talented, she isn't just brave, but she's desirable. Every single boy in the Capitol is going to want to follow Peeta's example, and she will get sponsors. These Games, are going to be hers.


	35. The Beginning

**A/N- Again, I apologize for the slightly late update, as well as the somewhat shorter chapters, but I'm kind of letting my new story take priority. Don't worry, though. I'm going to finish the 74th Games, and do the last chapter right afterwards. When that's finished, I'll completely finish my Harry Potter story (I'm getting that one done before I even post it, to avoid situations such as these, so it'll only take a couple weeks at the most), and after that's finished, I'll start my final volume of what I've decided to make a trilogy, which is going to extend from Catching Fire and through Mockingjay, sticking with the events of the book until near the end, for obvious reasons.**

**So, thank you for reading all of that, and I hope you won't mind biweekly updates until the end of this story. I'm hoping that once I finally get to the last part of the trilogy (Which I'm expecting to post around February), I'll be able to get really into it again. Thank you for sticking with me this long, and please read and review.**

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Their Games started a day later. Felix and I were thrown into that horrible little room, and were forced to watch the bloodbath on the first day. Rowdy, with all of his stealth and cunning, managed to get himself killed by a thirteen year old girl from District Six, who swung a sword through his head, despite the fact that the sword that was bigger than she was.

It wasn't a huge tragedy for either Felix, or I, however. We knew he wasn't going to win, and we weren't expecting him to win. Despite that, however, I was slightly thankful when Mia teamed up with a very nasty looking pack of Careers. I was convinced that they would protect her, at least from a horribly cruel death.

On a side note, Mia wasn't the only one who joined the normal pack from One and Four. To my intense surprise, Peeta approaches the group with his hands raised, as soon as the bloodbath is done. I hadn't been expecting to pay much attention to him, just because he seemed like such a non-factor, but my eyes are glued to the screen that he's on as I listen to him smooth-talk the Careers into letting him join their group.

"What's he doing?" I ask Felix, like he'd actually know. To my intense surprise, he throws out an idea.

"The only thing that I can think of is that he's protecting Katniss. Maybe his confession was serious."

"I don't think-"

"Look at him, Finnick. That boy couldn't hurt a fly, and I bet that he probably bottle feeds babies in his spare time. Do you think that he has it in him to lie about something like that."

"Everyone in this nation does. It's part of being raised by the Capitol."

"He's from out in District 12, where they have very little influence."

"They also ignore them completely, completely neglecting to give them food or anything else that's necessary for life. The people in that district are in some of the worst conditions in Panem. He hasn't exactly grown up easy just because he hasn't been watched by the Capitol his entire life."

"I still don't think that he's lying," Felix says, and to my intense surprise, I realize that I don't really think so either. That's the only reason I can give for him to join the Careers.

While all of that is going on, Katniss is simply running. She continues going on and on, taking as few breaks as possible while moving at a somewhat impressive speed. By the time that night falls, she's a decent distance from the Careers, although not exactly close to a body of water either.

I fall asleep about halfway through that night, because very little looks like it's going to happen. The only thing worth any mention at all that does, is that when the Careers find a girl who'd been dumb enough to start a fire, Peeta jumped up and very quickly asked who she was.

When he heard that it wasn't Katniss, he relaxed and allowed them to kill her, but when I saw his face, I realized that he would've fought them if it had been Katniss Everdeen. Anyone could see it in his eyes.

"That's cute," I mumble, thinking of Arowana and me. Really, that's the only other time I've seen anything close to romance in the Games, and I'm not interested in seeing it again. I'm worried that it could bring back memories that I'm not interested in reliving.

"Maybe it'll end more happily for them," Felix says, his thoughts right on pace with mine. I just shake my head, thinking that he's psycho.

"Yeah, maybe, if they're really lucky, they'll both die so that they can be together." Felix smacked my arm.

"Isn't it for the best that Arowana died. If not, you and Annie wouldn't have found each other." I sigh, knowing that he's right, but also thinking about how unfair it is that Arowana had to die at the same time.

"Yeah, I guess." That's when I slide into bed and sleep, hoping to stay out as long as possible. The Games always go faster when I don't have to watch them.

The next day or so goes by extremely slowly, although Katniss is making alarmingly slow progress. It's obvious that she's getting horribly dehydrated, and I want to march over to the District 12 room and scream at Haymitch to get her some water, but I also see what he's doing. He knows that if he gives it to her, she may stop looking, and right now that wouldn't be convenient. Not a hundred yards ahead of her is a small pond that runs into a slow flowing creek.

Eventually, she does find it, and to my surprise she even takes the time to purify the water. She gulps down a jug of it, then refills it. Right when she's about to put the second jug away, I guess that the Gamemakers decide that things have been too boring. A fire starts straight behind Katniss, and she's forced to run. It keeps getting closer and closer to her, until finally it seems to stop. She slows down for just a second to catch her breath, and the Gamemakers take advantage. Now, instead of a normal fire, they start launching balls of flames at her, some of them hitting her or narrowly missing. One scorches off the back of her jacket, and another gets some of her hair. Then, a last one leaves a nasty looking burn on the back side of her calf.

Katniss, forcing her way forward, finally escapes the flames, and Felix and I both look at each other, trying not to laugh.

"The Girl on Fire," we both say at the same time with small smiles, although I'm not much in the smiling mood. I'd been on the verge of a heart attack the entire time, watching the District's hope getting chased by fire. But now, she was safe, and she was even smart enough to f, find another source of water, where she took to caring for her burns in the best way she could.

At that same time, I noticed a crisis in the making. The pack of Careers was moving towards her, and there was no doubt in my mind that they would find her. Soon enough, they did. One of them heard her moving at the same time that Katniss heard them. Katniss quickly climbed a tree, despite the fact that her hands each looked like a single giant blister. Pain was obvious on her face, but she kept going until she looked confident they couldn't get her. Just seconds later, the pack burst into the clearing.

The Careers hadn't completely escaped the fire, but none of them were burned quite as badly as she was.

"How's everything with you?" Katniss called down with a smile on her face. Both Felix and I laughed. If she was winning over us, I could only imagine how the rest of Panem was feeling.

"Well enough," Cato, the boy from Two says. "Yourself?"

"It's been a bit warm for my taste." I find my smile growing larger. It's easy to see that she knows the danger she's in, but she's still joking around. "The air's better up here. Why don't you come on up?"

"I think I will," Cato says, although he's obviously too brawny to get up as high as she is. I think he knows It too, but he just wants to scare her.

Katniss starts climbing higher as he hoists himself into the tree. Before he goes another two branches, he's back on the ground. Once again, I find myself laughing. When the Games are like this, there's almost a comedy effect involved. If it weren't for the death and killing, I would almost be enjoying myself.

There's even some drama involved as well, I notice when I see Katniss trying to make eye contact with Peeta, no doubt intending to send him a horrible glare. And why wouldn't she? She probably doesn't think that he was serious about his comment, and to her, he did nothing but betray her. Peeta, however, keeps his bright eyes focused on the blade of his knife.

After Cato falls, Glimmer, the girl from 1, gives it a go, but she doesn't get very much higher. She tries to shoot her with a bow, but she doesn't even hold the thing right, although it does get pretty close to Katniss. Seizing the opportunity, she grabs the arrow and starts waving it around, like she's rubbing it in her face. It looks like she's just using it for show, but from what Haymitch told me, I have a hunch that she's planning on using it later on.

The Careers start debating about what to do, when finally Peeta pipes up and says, "Oh, let her stay up there. It's not like she's going anywhere. We'll deal with her in the morning."

Sure enough, they listen to him. He does have a point. The burns that Katniss had suffered are obviously bothering her, and if she tried to get away, she'd be caught almost instantly.

She does manage to clumsily get ready for sleep, but she looks truly horrible. I want to tell Haymitch to give her something, but then again, I know that he isn't going to let her die if he can help it. He's just waiting. I guess I'm still too used to my Games, where I was sent food simply because my sponsors were worried that I was getting hungry.

"Do you think she'll make it?" I ask Felix. He shrugs, not seeming to concerned. That helps me relax somewhat.

"I don't see why not."

"Well, tell me if she falls or something. I think I'm going back to sleep," I tell him. He puts a hand on my arm, telling me to wait. Pointing the screen, he shows me a little figure, crouched in the tree right beside the one Katniss is in.

"If that stupid fart kills her-" I start, but then I see what the girl is doing. She's trying to get her attention.

Finally Katniss sees her, and the two stare at each other for what seems like a long time. Finally, the little girl from nest. I look at Felix and grin.

"Now this," I tell him, "is going to be interesting."


	36. Tracker Jackers

A/N- Sorry it's been a while, but I'm still working on my other story. I hope that you enjoy this, and Happy Holidays. My next update should come sometime next week. Thanks for sticking with this story, and please review.

* * *

That night, Katniss waited until the anthem played to start sawing down the trackerjacker nest. It was obvious that it hurt her hands, but if anything, she's tough, and she managed to get most of the branched sawed off before the music stops playing. When the anthem stops, she smartly retreats to her previous position, no doubt not wanting the Careers to learn what she's doing and simply move.

When she returns to her sleeping bag, she notices a parachute that must have landed when she was sawing; I hadn't noticed it falling, but my attention was singly on her. Sure, I feel guilty for rooting for her while Mia is one of the people who's sleeping underneath the tree, but if Mia lives, that's one person. If Katniss manages to make it through were her sanity in tact, she could save so many more. Well, as I was saying, Katniss had found a parachute, equipped with ointment. I have to smile at the look on her face as she spreads it on her hands and legs. Immediately afterwards, she falls asleep.

Since I'd been planning on sleeping before, anyway, I decide that I might as well rest while she is.

"Tell me if something's going on," I instruct Felix, then fall into an easy sleep.

Hours later, Felix shakes me awake. I'm met with the sight of Katniss once again sawing off the branch. This time, however, it's about to fall. I get nervous when some of the tracker jackers start stinging her, but she pushes on, finally getting the branch to plummet through the trees.

I watch the resulting chaos carefully. It's easy to see that the Careers hadn't expected such a rude awakening, and they try to scramble to the lake, but a couple of them get left behind. A small lump forms in my throat when I realize that one of them is Mia.

"Shit, run," I urge her under my breath, but I've learned about tracker jacker stings, and I know that she's finished. I think of her sweet disposition, of the way that she always seemed so nice, and I slam my fist down on the table in front of us.

"She didn't need to die like that," I spit at Felix, and he puts a hand on my shoulder.

"It's better this way," he tells me. Then we pack up our stuff and head to the District 12 room, where Haymitch is watching the screen with uncharacteristically sharp eyes.

"Sorry 'bout that girl," he said. I shake it off.

"Katniss needs to win." Then we continue to watch the other Careers jump into the lake. All of them except for Peeta, who staggers back towards Katniss, with the boy from District 2 on his tail.

"What is that moron doing?" Haymitch hissed under his breath. I have to wonder the same thing. He stumbles upon Katniss, who'd been trying to pry a quiver and bow off of the body of the girl from 1, who'd also died from the stings.

"She just had to get the bow," Haymitch murmured. I watch her nervously as she fumbles with it, attempting to load an arrow, but she isn't thinking straight, and almost collapses.

"What are you still doing here?" Peeta hisses at her. I notice how he quickly looks over his shoulder, but the boy from 2 is still too far away. "Are you mad?" He starts urging her forward, sending nervous glances into the trees. "Get up! Get up!"

She manages to get unsteadily to her feet, but Peeta continues to push her. She obviously has no idea what's going on. Maybe she's even in shock that Peeta's helping her. I don't know. I just know that I have to fight the urge to scream at the screen and tell her to get her butt moving, although it wouldn't do any good.

"Run!" Peeta shouted when she stared at him blankly. "Run!"

At that second, Cato cuts away the brush with his knife and fights his way towards her. He's soaking wet from the lake, and Tracker Jacker stings dot his body, a couple on his arms, and a big one right under his eye that's swollen up to the point that I doubt he can see how of his left eye.

Katniss takes one look at him, and her brains seems to turn on. Hugging her bow and arrows as if they're a newborn baby, she stumbles away from them and through the brush, never able to really gain her balance. Despite that, she pushes on, past the pool she was at earlier, and into a different part of the forest. Then she can't go any longer, and she collapses. At the same time, I'm watching Peeta and Cato, the boy from 2, fight in what appears to be slow motion. The whole thing takes over twenty minutes, because neither of them can even stand up straight.

They take swings at each other and Peeta tries throwing a knife, but nothing hits. It's about the equivalent of watching a bar fight between two shit faced drunks. In all reality, it's boring, but in an interesting kind of way.

For a while I'm convinced that nobody is going to win, but finally Cato takes a blind swing with his sword and cuts Peeta right below the thigh. At the same time, against all odds, Peeta finally manages a good stick with one of his knives, and Cato stumbles away with a knife sticking out of his arm. Peeta, despite that, is in even worse shape, and starts dragging himself forward.

"Oh, this doesn't look good," Haymitch comments, and I can see why. One of his tributes it the color of a ghost, and losing blood fast, while the other one is passed out on the forest floor, with almost the same skin tone as her fellow tribute has.

"They'll be fine," I assure him.

Only my confidence wavers. Katniss stays passed out all night, the day after that, and into the morning, while Peeta doesn't get to sleep for the first day and a half. He finally manages to get to a muddy bank in front of a lake, and then starts mixing mud and plants together, slathering the stuff all over his skin.

In a not very smart moment, I look at Haymitch and wonder, "What in the hell is he doing? That can't be good for his leg."

After giving me a well-deserved incredulously look, Haymitch says, "Have you ever heard of camouflage, or do you think he'd be better of trying to fight anyone who came near him."

"Oh, right," I say sheepishly. What can I say? I haven't had much sleep at all.

At least Katniss wakes up in just a short while, but she doesn't move at all. She sits there and thinks, to my growing irritation. Although no other tributes are extremely close to her, her lack of activity makes me nervous, and because she isn't moving, I worry that something is wrong.

Eventually she does get up, though, and even though she's slow, at least she can move. Of course, Katniss, being as smart as she is, takes stalk of all her supplies, then goes out to round up water. She finds a stream after a while and drinks and washes herself before seeing up camp. She shoots herself a turkey-like thing and cooks it, then sits and starts to eat.

That's when I notice the little girl from Eleven creeping towards her again. She has no weapons, however, and after last time I'm more interested than nervous to see their interaction.

Katniss hears a twig snap and raises a bow in a quick, experienced motion, but lowers it when she, somehow, catches a glimpse of Rue. She relaxes, and a gentle smile breaks out across her face.

"You know, they're not the only ones who can form alliances," Katniss tells her. Felix and Haymitch groan loudly.

"Her?" Felix wonders.

"What good will that do?" Haymitch asks.

"She looks like Katniss's sister," I answer, throwing my best guess out there.

"How?" Haymitch asks.

"They're built exactly the same," I answer, then hold up my hand to shush them, eager to hear the rest of the conversation.

At first, Rue simply looks up at Katniss warily, then she carefully opens her mouth. "You want me for an ally?" It's weird, how she can't seem to believe that. I find nothing wrong with the alliance, despite the fact that the others in the room with me don't like it. Haven't they noticed how she flies through the trees, or the way that she knows what to eat?

"Why not? You saved me with those tracker jackers. You're smart enough to still be alive. And I can't seem to shake you anyway?" Rue studies her face carefully, swallowing hard as she obviously thinks about the decision. Katniss, at that moment, holds up a piece of meat. "You hungry?" she asks. Rue looks at the meat hungrily. "Come on then, I've had two kills today."

Rue shyly steps further out of the trees, her eyes still wary.

"I can fix your stings," she says.

"Can you? How?" Katniss wonders. I have to laugh at the look on her face, like she doesn't dare believe it. I guess that they were bothering her more than I could tell.

Rue digs in a small pack she'd been carrying and pulled out a handful of leaves. I don't recognize them, but I'm hopeless with plants anyway. In my Games, I had sponsors to get me medicine and things, and I haven't needed to learn anything about them since, so I've just stayed away.

"Where'd you find those?" Katniss wonders, her eyes widening at the leaves.

"Just around. We all carry them when we work in the orchards. They left a lot of nests there," Rue says. "There are a lot here, too." Katniss, obviously trying to gain the little girl's trust, smiles encouragingly.

"That's right. You're District Eleven. Agriculture. Orchards, huh? That must be how you can fly around the trees like you've got wings." The little girl smiles, obviously proud of how she can fly from tree to tree like a little bird. I guess it isn't exactly something to laugh at. I can hardly climb a tree at all, let alone go from one to the other. My size has always been an advantage for me, but looking at Rue, I can tell that sometimes there's perks to being small as well.

"Well, come on, then. Fix me up," Katniss says, once she sees the girl's smile. She then chews up the leaves and applies them to all of Katniss's stings, which makes the older girl relax to the extent that her face is almost funny. She even begs to keep going, and I look at Haymitch.

"I don't think that she handles pain quite as well as it'd appear."

"Cut her some slack," Haymitch says defensively. "At least she has a chance at winning her Games without the Capitol's help."

"My Games were nothing but skill," I almost brag, even though they aren't something that I really take pride in.

Rue and Katniss talk a while longer, after her stings are healed, and I relax and watch them, only sparing an occasional glance at the dying Peeta when it's completely necessary, just because seeing him on his deathbed like that isn't exactly fun. Sure, he's not the hope of the districts like Katniss is, but I can see that he's a good person, and the way that he's dying promises to be long and painful. So, I watch the friendly banter between the two girls instead.

That night, they finally get to sleep, Rue tucked into the sleeping bag next to Katniss, and I have to smile at how nice it is to see that sometimes friendships can be made in the Games. Then I cuss under my breath.

"She's not going to be able to kill her, is she?" I ask out loud.

"If it comes down to the two of them, no, she isn't," Haymitch says bitterly. I bite my tongue and look at the two nuzzled together. Finally, I let out a small sigh. At least, if Katniss doesn't make it out, it'll be for a good reason.

I'll be mad, sure, but not like I'd be if some moron chopped her head off.

That night, I go to bed with those happy thoughts, thinking of how sweet Katniss and Rue look together, and wondering about my sister, and in turn about Annie. I go to bed with the pair of them in my mind, and dream better dreams than I had in a long time.


	37. She Means Business

A/N- Sorry for the wait, especially because it's so short, but I hope that you like it. Thank you for reading.

* * *

When Felix wakes me up the next morning, Katniss and Rue are walking through the forest and talking.

"What's going on?" I ask Haymitch groggily.

"They're planning on attacking the Career's base," he says. "The little fart had been spying on them, and she's giving Katniss information." I remember the boy from District Three rewiring the bombs that they'd put around it. Right away, I hadn't paid much attention to what he was doing because Katniss was by herself and I didn't figure she'd attack them, and Mia was one of them. Now, I'm worried about that.

"What are they planning?" I asked him worriedly.

"They aren't just going to burst in there," Felix says, but he isn't exactly confident in that statement.

"She's a smart girl," Haymitch assures us. Then we shut up so we can hear them talking.

Rue tells Katniss that the base is by the lake, and that all their supplies are in a huge pile about thirty yards away from where they've been sleeping. During the day, usually the boy from Three, the one who put the bombs in, guards everything.

"The boy from District Three?" Katniss checked.

"She really is observant," Felix says. I can tell that he's impressed, and I am too. Not many people would take the time to make note of something like that, but I can almost see the gears turning in her head, thinking about why a boy from District Three would be able to get in with the Career group.

"Yes, he stays at the camp full-time. He got stung, too, when they drew the tracker jackers in by the lake," Rue told her. "I guess they agreed to let him live if he acted as their guard. But he's not very big." Katniss listens to that, but she still doesn't think that it's quite right. I don't know how she'd make the connection with the bombs, but I hope that at least she uses more caution than she normally would be trying to get the supplies.

"What weapons does he have?" she asks.

"Not much that I could see. A spear. He might be able to hold a few of us off with that, but Thresh could kill him easily."

"And the food's just out in the open?" Rue nods. "Something's not quite right about that whole setup."

I look at Haymitch and shake my head with a smile.

"That girl is amazing."

"Don't get your hopes up too much," he growled. "She has guts, but I've seen her act rashly. Just hope that she doesn't lose her temper and rush into something that she shouldn't."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever."

"Katniss, even if you could get to the food, how would you get rid of it?" Rue asked her then.

"Burn it. Dump it in the lake. Soak it in fuel." She laughs and pokes Rue in the belly. "Eat it." The little girl starts giggle, and I share a look with the other two in the room. She's getting too attached, and that isn't good. "Don't worry. I'll think of something. Destroying things is much easier than making them."

After that, they start gathering roots and fruit, things to eat. I get bored and start wandering around the complex just for something to do. It didn't look like anything was going to start for a while, and watching tributes get attached to each other was too painful. Thoughts of Arowana were already starting to circulate in my head, and I can't help but worry about what's going to happen when one of them dies.

While I'm walking, I run into Johanna Mason.

"Good Games, aren't they?" she asks me sardonically. "It's going to be fun watching Katniss when someone kills her little friend." I laugh, not because it was funny, but just because of the way her thoughts were on the same page as mine.

"It's frustrating, watching her do that to herself. It's like they don't know." I lead her to a bench and we sit down.

"You did the same thing," she notifies me. I have to cringe.

"Yeah, and it was a mistake."

"But you met Annie out of it, so is it really so bad?" I have to smile at that, just slightly, even though I'm sure it doesn't completely touch my eyes.

"That depends. She would have been better off without me." Johanna puts her hand on top of mine.

"If you really thought that, then you wouldn't still be with her. Whenever there's something good, you have to realize that it'll always come with bad." I sigh.

"I know that. I do. I'm just thinking way too much about things that I shouldn't be." She smiles at me sadly.

"The Games tend to do that to people." We sit in silence for a moment.

"Why aren't you in the District Twelve room?" I ask her after a while. She shrugs.

"I'm with Eleven. Rue. Maybe I'll go back to Twelve later, but I don't like Haymitch." I chuckle.

"He isn't drunk."

"Yeah, that's what scares me." We start laughing, but a Peacekeeper walks up to us and insists (well, orders) that we get back to whatever rooms we're in.

When I get back, the two of them are just getting ready to separate.

"If all goes according to plan," Katniss is saying when I step into the room, "I'll see you for dinner."

Then the girl throws her arms around her, and Katniss hugs her back. I feel a pang in my chest, knowing that both of them can't survive.

"You be careful," Rue says.

"You too," Katniss replies. Then they walk away from each other.

As she heads towards the Career camp, things die down again, and I let my eyes wander to the screen that shows Peeta.

"He's going to die, isn't I?" I ask to no one in particular. They don't need to know who I'm asking about. There's only one 'he' in these Games that would warrant that question.

"I looks that way. The poor kid doesn't deserve," Haymitch muttered. "He's good, has the best soul that I've ever seen."

"It's the Games," Felix says, and that ends the conversation. I plop down on Haymitch's bed and watch the screens, but no one is doing anything, so I close my eyes, planning on napping, but just as I'm drifting off, Felix pokes my arm.

"She's there," he said. I open my eyes to the sight of Katniss is watching the Careers. Cato had just caught a glimpse of a campfire that Rue set. I'm guessing for a distraction. They must have come up with that idea when I was talking to Johanna.

The Careers are currently getting into a heated argument about whether or not to leave the boy from Three to guard the supplies or take him with.

"He's coming," Cato insists. "We need him in the woods, and his job's done here anyway. No one can touch those supplies."

"What about Lover Boy?" the boy from one asked. I'm guessing he was referring to Peeta.

"I keep telling you, forget about him. I know where I cut him. It's a miracle he hasn't bled to death yet. At any rate, he's in no shape to raid us." It's impossible not to see that worry on Katniss's face when she hears that. Great. She's gotten attached to two tributes.

"Come on," Cato said, thrusting a spear into the hands of the scrawny boy from Three, then leading them away.

At first, I'm convinced that now that they're gone, Katniss is going to just go barging onto the supplies and get herself blown to bits. She sits there and thinks for a long while, and just as it appears that she is going to get closer, the girl from 5, who I hadn't even noticed getting close, steps out of the forest. Katniss hangs back and watches.

I'm surprised when I see her start dancing towards the supplies, jumping up and down around where the mines apparently are. I guess that when I was watching Katniss, she was paying attention to the whole thing getting built. It's more than impressive that she'd have the whole path memorized, and I'm also relived, because I can see Katniss analyzing her every move. She now realizes that she can't just walk up and take everything.

The girl from Five grabs some food, then darts back away on the same path that she got there with. Once she's done, Katniss stares at it, obviously thinking. I'm just about to ask Haymitch if there's anything he could send her to tip her off when she whispers to herself, barely loud enough for the cameras to catch, "It's mined."

"She has an idea now," Haymitch told us. "Look at her eyes." When I did, they were shining devilishly. I felt myself smiling.

She takes a few cautious steps closer, raising her bow and loading it with an arrow. The first time, she fires towards the pile and hit's a bag of apples near the top, causing it to tear.

"She's a genius," Felix says, a very big smile on his face.

"Don't say that until she gets it to work," I warn him, although I'm thinking the exact same thing.

She fires another one, widening the hole. An apple threatens to fall. She fires the third arrow.

It catches the torn flap of burlap and rips it from the bag.

For a moment, the apples seem frozen.

Then, they all come toppling down at once, spilling across the ground.

Explosions light up the air, and the sound is almost deafening, even over the speakers.

But the supplies are now completely destroyed.


	38. Ripples in a Pond

You know how when you drop a rock in a still pond, it'll make one ripple, and then that sets off a whole chain of other ripples that just keep branching out from the original one? Well, that's what blowing up the supplies did to the Hunger Games.

First was the condition of the instigator. Katniss is staggering around and won't quit messing with her ears. That tells me that she's sustained some kind of head damage, and most likely can't hear very well, if at all.

Thankfully, she does manage to crawl back to the little copse that she'd been hiding in before. I urge her to go faster as I watch the Careers rushing back through the forest upon hearing the explosions. This is the second wave. Cato is, for lack of a better work, pissed. He has a look in his eyes that I've only ever seen in Titus. I doubt he's going to eat anyone, but at that moment, he is very deadly.

Katniss gets into the copse the second that the Careers burst into the clearing. Cato is first, and he starts pounding the ground and cussing when he sees what happened. Then that second wave, his anger, breaks into a third. He stomps over to the boy from Three and breaks his neck. With his hands.

The other Careers tell Cato to calm down, they remind him that anyone who did that has to be dead. That calms him down, for a while anyway. That is, until later that night, when the anthem plays and there are only two faces in the sky.

"He's going to eat her," I say worriedly, truly concerned. "He's going to take her heart out and eat it."

"After your Games, everyone came to a mutual understanding on that particular practice," Felix assures me. By now, the mentors from ten and nine are in the room as well. They wave of my suggestion as easily as Felix, but I'm not so sure.

"I've seen what an insane person looks like," I try. "And he isn't stable."

"None of us were," the woman from Ten says.

"But-"

"Just pay attention," Haymitch snaps. I can see that he's watching Peeta's screen worriedly. He'd woken up during the cannon fires, grabbed a drink from the pond, and is now out cold again. It's obvious that he's going to die soon, but I can't make myself care. It's clear that Katniss isn't worrying too much about him, so if it doesn't affect her, it doesn't affect me.

But really, I have to keep looking at his screen too, just because absolutely nothing is happening on any of the others. Rue sleeps. Katniss starts heading back to their rendezvous point. The Careers hunt. No one is close to each other, there's no fighting, no strategizing. So I go to sleep.

I'm shaken awake again not two hours later. Haymitch's face is etched with worrying, and a low murmur is coursing through the room.

"She didn't-" I start to ask, but then I realize that no one would still be here is Katniss had gotten herself killed.

"Rue is treed," Haymitch said. "And Katniss is looking for her." I look up at the screen, then pale as I watch the boy from One searching through the trees for her.

"He'll miss her," I say, willing it to happen. "He'll pass by without even knowing she's there."

Then a twig falls. Just a twig. It wasn't even Rue's fault. I think the wind blew it down. But for whatever reason, it was on the ground, right at the feet of the Boy from District 1. He looks up and locks eyes with Rue. In an instant, the girl is down from the tree and sprinting through the forest, with Katniss searching for her just a few hundred feet away.

Rue is fast, but she's a twelve year old girl. The race isn't fair, not at all. The boy from One tosses a net and throws it at her, and Rue lets off a bloodcurdling scream. I turn around, unable to watch.

I don't know why. I should have become desensitized to death a long time ago. Maybe it's the net. No one else has used one since my Games, and just seeing someone die like that makes me realize how unfair and cruel it was. Seeing Rue under it, terrified and helpless, knowing that death it imminent, makes me realize just how bad it really is to capture someone like that. It doesn't give them a fighting chance at all. It's horrible.

Or maybe I can't watch because of how small and sweet she is. Maybe it's because she looks almost just like my sister, who barely missed being old enough to participate in these Games. It could have been my sister.

But for whatever reason, when I try to block out the whole thing. I try to block out her screaming for Katniss, and I try to block it out when I hear Katniss Everdeen cry out for her. Then, Rue tries to yell one more time, but it's cut off by a horrible noise.

I force myself to turn around, but I can barely look at the screen. She's still alive, but just by a thread. This is the next ripple from the stone. Cato was angry. They all went hunting. Rue was found, and now she's dead.

In the next ripple, the boy from One is killed as well. Katniss hits him with an arrow directly in the throat, and he drowns in his own blood. I don't feel bad for him.

"Katniss isn't going to pull an Annie Cresta, is she?" the man from Ten asks, and I roughly shove him to the ground.

"Would you just shut up," I hiss, then lock my eyes on the screen, mostly just to keep myself from pounding the man into mush.

"You blew up the food?" I hear Rue whisper softly, in a voice that sounds far too much like the one Arowana was using after she got hit by a spear, exactly like Rue had. I swallow hard.

"Every last bit," Katniss says gently, still very much in control.

"You have to win," she says.

"I'm going to. Going to win for both of us now," she promises.

"Don't go," Rue pleads, getting a vice grip on Katniss' hand. I feel tears welling up in my eyes, and I wipe them away quickly. I'm a Victor for crying out loud. There's no need for me to cry.

"Course not. Staying right here." She holds Rue closer to her, putting the dying girl's head in her lap.

"Sing," Rue says, her voice now almost nonexistent.

And to my surprise, Katniss does start singing. Singing in the most beautiful voice that I've ever heard.

_Deep in the meadow, under the willow. _

_A bed of grass, a soft green pillow. _

_Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes _

_And when again they open, the sun will rise. _

_Here it's safe, here it's warm. _

_Here the daisies guard you from every harm. _

_Here your dream are sweet and tomorrow brings them true_

_Here is the place where I love you. _

Rue is almost dead by that point, and every person in the room is crying, except for Haymitch and I. But I can feel the tears welling in my eyes, and I'm not sure that I'll be able to hold them in much longer.

_Deep in the meadow, hidden far away, _

_A cloak of leaves, a moonbeam ray, _

_Forget your woes and let your troubles lay _

_And when again it's morning, they'll wash away_

_Here it's safe, here it's warm_

_Here the daisies guard you from every harm. _

Rue's breath rises one more time, and Katniss's voice drops to the point where the words are hard to make out.

_Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true. _

_Here is the place where I love you. _

I take a shaky breath to keep the tears from falling. Rue's cannon fires. The woman from Ten lets a sob escape her throat. Katniss steps back and kisses Rue on the forehead, and I let out a sigh of relief, thankful that it's done, thankful that now the Games can start again and become something easy instead of something that's just so wrenchingly hard.

Except Katniss isn't finished. Instead, she starts gathering flowers. When she returns to the body, she covers the wound and wreathes her face with the brightly colored blossoms. She's being foolish, and I know that the Capitol will not be happy with her stunt, but I can't help but commend her. It truly is the most beautiful moment I've ever seen in the Games. The tears quit threatening, and a small smile takes their place as I watch Katniss finish decorating her body with the flowers.

"Bye Rue," she whispers, then, in the gesture that District 12 used when she was sent of, Katniss presses the three middle fingers of her left hand against her lips and holds them out in Rue's direction. When she's finished, she walks away without another look back. The hovercraft comes and Rue's body is gone.

That leaves six, and it is immediately obvious that Katniss wants to cut down the numbers even further. She takes her arrow and starts prowling through the forest in search of people to kill. I know that this is part of the next ripple.

Just like I did after Arowana died, Katniss now wants to throw herself into the Games. It makes it hurt less. I know that. I just hope that this ripple doesn't turn out to be a stupid one, because acting irrationally can cause as many problems as hiding out in the back corner of the arena would.

Luckily, or maybe unluckily, no one finds her. She keeps wandering until she climbs up a tree for the night. At first, she sits and thinks. I don't know if it's about shooting the boy, or Rue's death, or what, but I can see that it's something that's bothering her.

As the Games wind down for the day, I relax and start to head back to the District 4 room to get some actual sleep as the anthem starts playing. I'm about to open the door when Claudius Templesmith's voice echoes through the room.

At first I figure that it's just a feast, but almost immediately he announces that there has been a rule change. I stop and listen as carefully as I can.

"Under this new rule, both tributes from the same district will be declared winners if they are the last two alive." I stand there, running the words through my head in confusion. Then he repeats them, and they sink in.

While Katniss screams Peeta's name, I kick Haymitch's bed hard enough to send it toppling over. Everyone turns to look at me and I stalk out of the room, cussing as I tear through the hallways.

The next ripple has started.

And let's just say that it doesn't make me very happy.


	39. Hope

A/N- Okay, it's been a while, and I do apologize. But, I did make this chapter a little bit longer to hopefully make up for it. I hope that you enjoy it, and please review. It means a ton to me. Thank you.

Oh, and this is most likely the second to last chapter. Just a little forewarning.

* * *

Why? What could possibly possess President Snow to want to send the pathetic district partners home together? Are Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen really that captivating? Are they special enough that they get privileges that I didn't get? I was the Capitol's golden boy. Why would Katniss's wants get placed over mine?

Peeta is pathetic. He's a baker's son. If he dies, nothing will happen to his family. They'll be sad, they'll get over it. If Katniss actually liked him, she'd show some sign of it, but she probably hasn't even thought about him. Hell, without that rule, she probably would have stabbed him if she happened to run into him. They never spoke. They didn't care about each other.

Arowana and I were actually partners. I kissed her for crying out loud! That's better than some half assed proclamation of 'love' or whatever Peeta pulled. It was probably strategy to save his own pathetic ass. I liked Arowana. A lot. I still think about her, nine years later. If Katniss and Peeta win this stupid thing, they'll probably forget about each other the second they're out of the arena.

So why? Why would the stupid president decide to give them a chance that I never had? Why do they get to be a couple when all I ever got to be was a sex symbol?

I know I didn't kill Arowana, that she didn't die because of anything I tried. But if I would have known, things would have gone differently. My sponsors could have given her medicine when she was hit with that spear, or they would have given me my trident earlier. Whatever would have happened, I'm convinced that if I'd gotten the chance to in my Games, I would have pulled her out of that arena alive.

I cuss out loud and drive my foot into a wall, which obviously does no good. Arowana is dead. Nothing I can do now will help that. But it's infuriating, knowing that there could have been a rule change, that now there is one. In all honesty, I'm jealous of Katniss and Peeta. Insanely jealous. It doesn't matter if Peeta is almost dead. What matters is that they'll get a chance to leave the arena together. Arowana and I never got that chance, and now she's dead.

"Finnick," a very familiar voice says from behind me. I turn around to face Johanna. She's the only one I wouldn't have run from in that situation.

"What?" I ask her. My voice is more bitter than I'd like. It's not her fault that Snow screwed me over.

"Do you love Annie?"

"Yes."

"And do you think that you'd be with her right now if you got to drag your partner home with you?" It's kind of amazing, really, how well she knows me.

"Probably not. But that isn't-"

"Then why are you mad?"

"It's not the point," I snap at her. "I'd never sacrifice an innocent person's life just so I could be with Annie. It doesn't matter if I love her like crazy or not. A person's life is more important than a relationship, and don't even begin to tell me that Annie wouldn't agree. She'd want her sister back no matter what."

"But-"

"No buts. I got screwed over. My relationship with her was more convincing than whatever bull shit Peeta thinks he's pulling, but for some reason, there was no rule change for my stupid Games." I don't care that Snow's hearing all of this. He knows that I have a temper, and I doubt that anything will come of this tantrum. Actually, he's probably laughing at me right now, if he isn't paying too close of attention to his precious Games.

"Just calm down, Finnick. What happened in your Games is the past. It's done and over with. I know that it may not be fair, but if you think about it, would President Snow want the symbol of the Capitol to be tied down before his Games were finished? He knew what'd happen if he let both of you come out alive, and that's why he didn't. But now, these two other tributes do have a chance to come out together, and you can't be mad that another life might be spared."

I let out my breath in a whoosh of air, finally losing my steam as her words sink in.

"You're right," I admit. "I just can't stand thinking that there was a chance that I could have saved her, that a rule change like that was even possible." Johanna put a gentle hand on my arm.

"I know why they did. There are two couples in these Games, two pairs of tributes who could return to their districts. If I remember right, you and Arowana were the only district partners working together. They wouldn't have made that rule for one district in any case, much less when they wanted you single."

That's logical. Somehow, realizing that there is a reason for it helps me relax a little bit.

"You're right." A thought hits me. "But who're the other two?" I hadn't been paying very close attention to anything except for Katniss.

"Cato and Clove, from District 2. The crazy guy and his psycho girlfriend."

"Of course. I'm sure they're so romantic."

"Practically Romeo and Juliet," she says sarcastically. I let myself laugh. Realizing that having two victors could be a good thing, that it's not just a stupid scheme to throw the Arowana thing in my face, I even smile.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"Cheering me up," I answer her. Then I take her hand. "Rue is dead. You have got to come watch in Haymitch's room. He's got the most entertaining commentary." She rolls her eyes.

"Of course I'll come. There's no way I could miss see Haymitch sober. I've waited long enough."

Then we return to the room.

Katniss is already looking for Peeta, but she isn't very close, so I head back to my room, telling someone to come get me if they find each other.

It takes a while, but eventually Johanna comes in and gets me, saying that she found him.

For the next few days, I watch Katniss try to heal Peeta. She washes all of the mud and weeds he used as camouflage off first, then takes to healing his leg in the best way she can, but I get a good view of the cut for the first time, and it's almost to the bone. Then there's the puss and infection that's already set in.

"That thing's infected," I point out. Several people glare at me, probably for stating the obvious.

The sight of the thing gets worse as she actually forces him to walk downstream to a cave, which isn't quite as hidden as I'd like, but I know that Peeta can't go any further. Katniss gets him in there and shoves him in the sleeping bag. I don't watch very closely, because it's not like there's any actual action going on, and it's just too sick that the Hunger Games could every be portrayed as a romance story. Well, unless it would have been Arowana and I, when I was in the arena. But watching it is just horrible.

As Katniss keeps tending to Peeta, I can't help but remember how Arowana looked over me when I had pneumonia. There's just this weird feeling, and even though Katniss is nothing like her at all, I can't help but compare the two of them. They have that same fiery attitude, but I know that Katniss doesn't quite have her compassion. Sure, she went into the arena for her sister, but Arowana talked about how badly she hated killing, she actually said she'd never kill again. Katniss doesn't seem to be showing any ill effects at all.

As the days drag on, I get more and more bored with the whole thing. No one is dying, and I know it's callous, but I want the killing to start. If they're all going to die anyway, what's the point in waiting it out this long? I know that the Capitol is probably all over themselves about the whole star crossed lovers thing, but really, any dimwit could see that Peeta's on the verge of dying.

Katniss is being even stupider than the Gamemakers. She's doing what she did to Rue, getting too attached. A lot of the kiss she gives him and words she says are very obviously staged, but there are other things she does that shows she cares about him a little. It's in the ferocity of how she cares for him, the way her eyes light up just a little bit when they tell each other stories.

"He's going to die," I hiss, "and it's going to be worse than with the girl." Again, the room glares at me, Haymitch even more so than the rest.

"He won't die," he growled. "He won't."

But it keeps looking worse and worse, and it's pretty clear that he has blood poisoning, so I'm just waiting for the time he doesn't wake up, waiting for Katniss to react like I did and go kamikaze in an attempt to finish off the last tributes at quickly as possible. Maybe she'll even start smiling and singing like I did.

Then, a few days after they'd been in the cave, the trumpets blare and Claudius Templesmith's voice fills the room. He says that there's a feast, except not a normal one. Instead of food, he has something that each tribute desperately needs to win.

I can imagine a couple of them. The girl from Five needs a weapon of some sort if she ever gets into a confrontation. Cato and Clove will need things to protect them from the arrows, if they ever want to get close to Katniss. As for Thresh, I'm not as sure. He seems to be living pretty comfortably, but it may be something for the arrows as well. Then, obviously, District Twelve needs the medicine to save Peeta. And as soon as Templesmith's words register with Katniss, her eyes light up, and I know that she's going to do it.

"If she dies for him, I want Thresh to have his head," I mutter. Johanna puts a hand on my arm, but thankfully no one else hears me. Haymitch would have my head for saying that. He's gotten attached to Peeta, and I can tell that this isn't just getting an ideal rebel leader home anymore. Not to him. Those kids have begun to mean something to him.

"He's not going to let her go, anyway," Johanna whispers to me. I look up to see the two of them arguing, him saying that he'll start screaming after her if she leaves.

"He'll do it," I pipe up. Everyone turns to glare at me for interrupting the heated argument. "What? He'll kill himself to stop her from going, you say what he did with Cato. Maybe if she could sedate him for a few hours-" Haymitch turned to face me, and I thought he was going to be mad for suggesting it, but his face lit up at me.

"That's perfect. We'll knock him out, she'll get the medicine, and…" His words trail off. Yes, the medicine matters to me, but so does the stupid country, and now he's all excited to put the first actual candidate for head rebel up against people twice her size. I know that it's not going well. I just know it.

But, despite wanting to protest, I bite my tongue and Haymitch sends her the sleep syrup. Moments later, Peeta is out like a light.

Katniss spends some time concealing the hiding place a little better and hunting, then she departs for the cornucopia, where the feast is taking place. I carefully watch her settle in for the night. I watch the other tributes doing the same. Then, in the middle of the night, a red haired shadow dashes from the forest and hides herself in the cornucopia.

"And I thought Katniss was smart," Johanna comments, her words directly in line with my thoughts.

Other than the tributes taking their places, though, nothing else happens.

I doze on and off for the rest of the night, until I see the sun rising in the arena and decide that I better wake up. It's a good thing, too, because moments later, the gong sounds and the tributes are going at it. The girl from Five gets hers first and easily scampers out of the way, and then Katniss goes.

Only she isn't as lucky as the other girl. She gets her bag, but Clove hits her forehead with a knife and she staggers back onto the ground, where the bigger girl pins her down. I slam my first into the wall, Haymitch lets loose a string of curses that'd make a sailor blush, and the room suddenly gets a very different atmosphere.

"Where's your boyfriend, District Twelve?" Clove asks her. "Still hanging on?"

"He's out there now. Hunting Cato." She takes a deep breath and cries, "Peeta!" I hate to give her credit. She knows how to think under pressure.

"Liar," Clove said after a moment of hesitation. "He's nearly dead. Cato knows where he cut him. You've probably got him strapped in some tree while you try to keep his heart going. What's in the pretty little backpack? That medicine for Lover Boy? Too bad he'll never get it."

Wow. That girl's a bitch. I cringe when I remember toying with the people I murder. But even I wasn't that bad. Was I? I shake my head. There are more important things to think about.

"I promised Cato if he let me have you, I'd give the audience a good show."

No, I wasn't that bad. I can see that. And I can also tell that Clove isn't crazy. Her boyfriend is, but Clove knows exactly what she's doing. I didn't.

"Forget it District Twelve," she says in response to Katniss's struggles. "We're going to kill you. Just like we did your pathetic little ally… what was her name? The one who hopped around in the trees? Rue? Well, first Rue, then you, and then I think we'll just let nature take care of Lover Boy. How does that sound?"

Yeah. I was no where near that bad. Not at all. At least I was merciful enough not to prolong it so much. Even my gut keeps twisting at the look she's giving Katniss, and I swear that my heart is going to leap out of my chest. I feel like I'm going to be sick, and I'm sitting watching the thing on a stupid screen.

"Now, where to start?" Clove contemplates. "I think…" She eyes her face with an almost artistic approach. It makes me blanch. "I think we'll start with your mouth."

Katniss clamps her mouth shut, but keeps her eyes locked with Cloves, which is impressive in itself.

"Yes, I don't think you'll have much use for your lips anymore. Want to blow Lover Boy one last kiss?" Then, even more impressive than keeping eye contact, Katniss spit's a mouthful of blood and saliva right in her face. I can't help but smile just slightly, despite the attitude of the moment. Then I see a dark shadow emerge from the forest not ten feet away from them, and suddenly I can feel a little spark of hope.

"All right then. Let's get started." But just as Clove starts digging the knife into her skin, Thresh pulls her off of Katniss and traps her in his humongous arms. Okay, I'm six three, and not exactly tiny, but this guy would probably make me look like a dwarf. I don't think his size completely registered until I saw him lift Clove, who must be a hundred and fifty pounds at the minimum, up like she weighed nothing. He'd probably even make Rafe look small. The way that he flings her to the ground like a rag doll enforces my observations.

"What'd you do to that little girl? You kill her?" he asks Clove. His voice is soft and menacing, which makes him even scarier. Clove tries to scurry backwards on all fours.

"No! No, it wasn't me."

"You said her name. I heard you. You kill her?" Suddenly, his mouth twists up in a snarl. "You cut her up like you were going to cut up this girl here?"

"No! No, I-" Thresh lifts a big stone over his head, and the girl loses it. "Cato!" she shrieks. "Cato!" I nervously glance at his screen, but he's too far away. He won't make it.

"Clove!" he answers, sounding like he actually cares. It's kind of sad, if you think about it. The two of them would have been so perfect for each other if they could have made it out. I can just see them. It's like some ancient book we read in school before my Games. The two main characters were horrible people, but they loved each other anyway, and you had to feel just a little bit bad when they lost each other. That's what it feels like when I see the genuine worry on Cato's face. It makes him seem… human.

Then, the rock goes down on Cloves skull and leaves a horrible looking dent, and any kind of romance really disappears from the moment. I have to work not to look away, because Clove is still alive, and that's the worst part.

I can't worry about her for long, however, because Thresh rips around on Katniss next.

"What'd she mean? About Rue being your ally?"

"I- I- we teamed up. Blew up the supplies. I tried to save her, I did. But he got there first. District One." Her words are quick and breathless, but the sincerity in them impresses me.

"And you killed him?"

"Yes. I killed him. And buried her in flowers. And I sang her to sleep." She starts crying, and that's when I see the look in Thresh's eyes.

"He's going to let her go," I whisper. I get a few skeptical looks, but I just know.

"To sleep?"

"To death. I sang until she died. Your district… they sent me bread. Do it fast, okay Thresh?"

Now his conflicting emotions are more obvious, but he lowers his rock, just like I knew that he would.

"Just this one time, I let you go. For the little girl. You and me, we're even then. No more owed. You understand?" There's a collective sigh of relief all around the room.

She nods just as Cato bursts into the clearing. He hollers Cloves name, but it's no good. I look away from them to keep myself from feeling stupid pity. Thresh yells at Katniss to leave, and she does, staggering back through the forest with her little pack, until she makes it to the cave. Barely conscious, with a very scary trail of blood running down her face, she opens the bag and pulls out a needle, which she promptly sticks in Peeta's arm before she collapses to the ground. I'm nervous, but I know that when he wakes up, he'll take care of her, and for the first time, I'm hopeful that maybe both of them will make it out alive.


	40. The Victors

It's two days before Katniss wakes up, but Peeta is fussing over her the entire time, so I don't worry about her safety. Just watching him with her makes me feel guilty about saying that it was all just a ruse. He obviously, very obviously cares about her. I actually find myself wondering what he would have done without the rule change, if it had ever come down to the two of them.

I don't think that he would have had to think too hard before letting her kill him.

What bothers me about the whole thing is Katniss. Sure, she went to get the medicine for him, but watching their kisses in the cave, watching the way they talked and interacted, the whole thing seemed very forced on her part. I'd ask Haymitch about it, but I really don't think it'd be too smart with the Capitol listening in. Besides, most of the other people in the room are as captivated as the Capitol, so it probably wouldn't be too smart of me to mention anything about fake feelings.

I actually start wondering whether they're real or not myself, after she starts fidgeting. At first, with her eyes still closed, her expression turns to confusion, and I know that she's out of it. It reminds me of when I had pneumonia, of how I thought that I'd died and went to hell.

"Katniss," Peeta says gently. "Katniss, can you hear me?" Very cautiously, her silver eyes open, and I can see that confusion turning to wariness. Not because of Peeta, but because of where she's at. No, when she sees Peeta, her eyes light up.

"Peeta." Her voice is hoarse, but she caresses the name as it comes out of her mouth. I don't know if anyone else notices, but I start wondering, because it sounds an awful lot like the way that Annie sounds when she says my name.

The two of them talk for a while, and I analyze the whole thing, trying to figure out if it's real or not real. Sometimes, it seems so genuine, but then it's like she'll remember something, maybe even subconsciously, and her manner changes just the slightest degree, and I find myself thoroughly confused.

I'm also slightly worried at the girl's obvious concern over Thresh. Great. Now there's another person I doubt if she'll be able to kill. My eyes dart to his screen, hoping that he's near death so she won't face him, but it looks like he has a perfect hiding place in a little shelter of rocks that lie in the field of grains he'd been hiding out in.

"She'd kill him if she had to, wouldn't she?" I ask, obviously referring to Thresh, because there's no question about what she'd do to Cato if she found him.

"She'd be able to, if not for herself, for Peeta," Haymitch answers me. That answer doesn't help me much, because I have to wonder just how much Katniss does care about them. I hear their conversation progressing.

"He let you go because he didn't want to owe you anything?" Peeta asked incredulously after she'd finished explaining everything to him.

"Yes. I don't expect you to understand it. You've always had enough. But if you'd lived in the Seam, I wouldn't have to explain." Yeah, definitely not convinced that she'd kill Thresh for Peeta. I wince as they continue arguing.

"And don't try. Obviously I'm too dim to get it."

"Can't you send her a muzzle?" Johanna asks. "She's got a dream boat sitting right in front of her, and she's being a total bitch about it." I slap her arm, getting defensive of the future rebel leader.

"Would you and your boyfriend quit adding commentary," Haymitch snapped at Johanna and I. "I'm trying to listen."

"What?" both of us snapped at the same time, which got the rest of the room to yell at us to shut up. Johanna opened her mouth to speak, but I put a hand on her arm. I did want to listen to the rest of this conversation.

"It's like the bread. How I never seem to get over owing you for that." I give Haymitch a questioning look, but he shushes me quickly, his eyes saying that he'll explain it later.

"The bread? What? From when we were kids? I think we can let that go. I mean, you just brought me back from the dead."

"But you didn't know me. We had never even spoken. Besides, it's the first gift that's always the hardest to pay back. I wouldn't even have been here to do it if you hadn't helped me then. Why did you, anyway?"

Haymitch curses.

"She's blind, isn't she?" he wonders out loud.

"Why? You know why." She shakes her head. Peeta's, face falls just slightly, and I know what he's talking about. She doesn't believe that she really likes him. She thinks that it's part of the Games, like it is for her. Or like I think it is for her. God, this is way too confusing. I doubt that the Capitol will let them lose anyway. It'd be better for my mind if the Games just ended now before their stinking relationship drives me crazy. "Haymitch said you would take a lot of convincing."

"Haymitch? What's he got to do with it?"

"Nothing," he says quickly, way too obviously avoiding the subject. After that, they switch to things that are a lot less interesting. I start whispering to Johanna before I notice their discussing getting more heated again.

"Well, he probably used up a lot of resources helping me to knock you out," Katniss is saying.

"Yeah, about that. Don't try something like that again."

"Or what?"

"Or… or…. Just give me a minute." Several people in the room chuckle, and I find Johanna smiling.

"Got a crush, Mason?" I whisper to her, to avoid getting snapped at by Haymitch again. She slaps my arm.

"He's too soft for me. I'd say that Cato is more my type." I snort before continuing to listen to them.

"What's the problem?" Katniss asks mischievously.

"The problem is that we're both still alive. Which only reinforces the idea in your mind that you did the right thing."

"They sound like an old married couple," I mutter, low enough that Haymitch can't hear.

"I did do the right thing."

"No! Just don't, Katniss!" The muttering stops as I watch him, just because it's unbelievable to see something like this during the Hunger Games. It isn't like what I had with Arowana. Watching Peeta right now, I realize for the first time that he doesn't just have a stupid crush on her. He's in love with her. "Don't die for me. You won't be doing me any favors. All right?"

Then, to my utter shock, Katniss responds in what appears to me to be complete honesty.

"Maybe I did it for myself, Peeta, did you ever think of that? Maybe you aren't the only one who… who worries about… what it would be like if…"

"If what, Katniss?"

She hesitates, and I know that even in the moment, she can't get herself to forget about all the watching cameras. She's going to stop.

"That's exactly the kind of top Haymitch told me to steer clear of."

"That stupid little chit must have sustained more brain damage than I originally thought," Haymitch grumbled angrily, but I can see that he knows exactly why she said that, and he isn't as mad as he would have been otherwise.

"Then I'll just have to fill in the blanks myself," Peeta said, saving the moment quite nicely. Then he moves in to kiss her.

They've kissed before, but never for more than a second, and they were always horribly cheesy. But this one is different. I can see it in Katniss's eyes when Peeta pulls away.

"She's falling for him," I whisper to Johanna. "For real."

"Yeah, and after that, so am I," she says, but I know she isn't serious. When she'd called him too soft before, she was right. I couldn't imagine her with someone like him. I think Cato would be a better match. I know Peeta isn't a total cream puff, if he's still in the Games now, but she'd still eat him alive.

The next few days drag on impossibly slowly. Outside the cave, Cato and Thresh put on an impressive chase which ends in a sword fight. Like a classic swordfight that they show in movie theaters that they have in the Capitol. I will admit that it's exciting to watch, even though I'd much, much rather be seeing actors doing it than actual people. In the end, Cato, does a very impressive move where he deflects one of Thresh's blows, then spins off of it and brings the blade back through, planting it very firmly in the larger boys side. After that, he stabs him through the heart one more time, just to make sure that he's gone, and walks away.

"That is so stupid," I mutter to Johanna. "No idiot would know moves like that living in District 2." Johanna looks at me like I'm some kind of moron.

"Isn't that just a little hypocritical?" I grin at her.

"But I was one of the good guys, so it didn't matter."

Other than Thresh getting finished off, the arena is quiet. The girl form Five collects food, Cato finally gets food from Thresh's supplies. He wasn't carrying a lot, but it's better than the crap the Cato had been scrounging up. In the cave, Katniss and Peeta sleep while carrying on romantic conversations that were cute at first, but get boring very quickly. I sleep and leave the room for as long as I can before Peacekeepers come and prod me back in like an escaped head of livestock.

After getting forced back into the room one of those times, I'm shocked to see the two tributes actually out of the cave.

"What's going on?"

"They're trying to hunt," Haymitch answers.

"Trying?" Katniss answers that question for me.

"You've got to move more quietly," she tells Peeta. "Forget about Cato, you're chasing off every rabbit in a ten-mile radius."

I laugh.

"Really? Sorry, I didn't know."

"Can you walk with your boots off?"

"Here?" Johanna and Haymitch and I all laugh at the look on Peeta's face. This is part of what I meant about him being too soft for someone like Johanna. Even Katniss is starting to lose her patience with him.

Before my Games, I was spoiled compared to almost any other kid in the districts. But, I also worked harder than most of them, with a lot of that time on the old, slightly unstable boats that the Capitol provides for us. There were mice, and millions of insects, and bird droppings, and sometimes dead birds, not to mention the mold. Most of the time, like everyone in our district, I was barefoot. Obviously, by the looks on Haymitch and Johanna's faces, they didn't have shoes all the time either. And also obviously, Peeta did. Just that one little comment makes me realize that if he didn't have Katniss beside him, he'd kind of be screwed.

"He's from some merchant's family, isn't he?" Johanna asks in a tone of voice that makes it clear she doesn't appreciate people like that.

"Yeah, he is. Is there a problem with people from families like that?" I asked jokingly. She rolls her eyes.

"Of course, Finnick. You annoy me because you're helpless, and your life has been so sickeningly easy."

"Would you please quit flirting?" Haymitch snaps back at us. "That stupid redhead is getting too close to them for comfort. Katniss is right. Peeta moves like an elephant."

"I love how Haymitch seems to think that we're a couple," Johanna growls under her breath, watching at their argument continues.

"He's lost a lot of brain cells," I whisper back.

The argument has ended, and Peeta slips off his boots. I don't think that it helps at all. I wouldn't doubt it if Haymitch could stumble through the forest in his usual state and not make as much noise as Peeta was.

"Katniss," Peeta finally says. "We need to split up. I know I'm chasing away the game." At least he isn't thick, in addition with being noisy and kind of soft.

Splitting up does help them, and Katniss manages to shoot some a couple rabbits and a squirrel. I'm so busy her that I don't look at Peeta's screen, don't see the other girl sneaking up not twenty yards away from him.

"Oh shit," Haymitch curses. I immediately look, but relax when I see who it is.

"She'll just leave," I say as she grabs a handful of cheese and berries.

"I don't think-" but his words are cut off when she takes off into the forest. Katniss and Peeta start bickering, and I try to tune it out by watching the other tributes. Cato is sitting in another cave across the arena, nursing injuries that Thresh gave him. The girl from District 5 has quit running, and she looks through what she grabbed, smiling and popping a berry into her mouth.

The effect is instant. I can't look away when I watch her stumble, then collapse. Her body seems to sink in on itself, her face shriveling up and turning ghostly white in just seconds. A cannon fires. There was only one thing that could have done that. I turn back to the other screen in horror, convinced that if they collected the berries, that they'd eat them.

Peeta's pulling Katniss towards a tree, looking more than a little freaked out.

"Climb. He'll be here in a second. We'll stand a better chance fighting him from above." Because obviously he doesn't know about the berries, or he wouldn't have grabbed them.

"No, Peeta. She's your kill, not Cato's." I smile in relief. Peeta truly would be dead if it wasn't for her.

"What? I haven't even seen her since the first day. How could I have killed her?"

She holds the berries up to him for an answer.

After that, Peeta goes about apologizing profusely for the berries, which Katniss brushes off. In another one of Katniss's frequent strokes of genius, she keeps the berries, thinking that they could use them on Cato later on. Then they return to the cave.

I know that tomorrow is going to be when the confrontation happens, so I return to my room to sleep until them.

By the time I wake up, they're already on the move, heading from water source to water source, which the Gamemakers have all dried up. It's not a very original idea. They did that in my Games, too. Except in mine, it was a hazard when there were still a few tributes left. In these Games, it's to get Katniss and Peeta to go to the lake. By their conversations, they know this, but they still try anyone.

Once they've come to the quite obvious conclusion that they'll have to face Cato if they want water, they head to the lake.

It's late by the time they get there, and when I look at Cato's screen, he's heading in the same direction. I know it sounds kind of Capitol to think, but I really don't want the last fight to be in the dark, where I couldn't see anything. But that looks increasingly more likely as time goes on, Cato making his way through the forest not very quickly at all.

Then I see the first one. A shimmering red wolf-like creature with flashing green eyes jumps through the break in the trees and appears just fifteen feet away from Cato. Several more step forward to flank it. He turns around, as if sensing their presence, takes one look at the things, and starts running for his life.

Ten minutes later, he bursts into the plain by the lake, completely ignoring Katniss and Peeta and heading straight for the cornucopia.

He gets on first, shaking and sweating, but still managing to climb. Katniss would have gotten there easily, perhaps even easily enough to kill him, then come back for Peeta, but apparently that's a risk she doesn't want to take. She has to stop for her bumbling district partner and shoot down a couple of the wolves… no, not wolves. Most definitely muttations. Their eyes are too intelligent. Their eyes are… their eyes are the eyes of the tributes. Then it all clicks into place. The fur, the size, the eyes. They're all from the dead tributes.

My heart gets stuck in my throat when I see the shimmering auburn hair and blue eyes of Mia Marisco. Except now, the eyes aren't gentle. Well, obviously they aren't going to be gentle. They aren't even her eyes. But despite that, I feel a tiny little pang in my chest when Katniss hits her in the head with an arrow.

She takes down one more, then her and Peeta have enough time to scurry up the golden cornucopia as well. Cato is convulsing on the edge, probably from running over a mile at nearly full speed. I want to yell, to scream at her to just run over and push him off, because it'd be so easy, but she's not thinking about that.

"Can they climb it?" Cato mumbles, and in a moment of horrible weakness I let myself feel bad for him, because at that moment, you can see in his eyes that he isn't crazy like he was making himself out to be. He was just like the other tributes. He wanted to win so he could return to his family, and right now, he isn't even hiding his fear. No. he definitely isn't a Titus.

Then I realize that there are two other tributes who actually do mean something to me, and I focus on them instead.

The mutts continue to attack the cornucopia, using different methods until they split up and attack from the sides instead. That's when one gets Peeta's leg in it's mouth.

Some female mentor shrieks, and I'm sure that he's going to get pulled over, but he stabs it with a knife. For a moment, I'm able to feel relief, but not twenty seconds later, Cato grabs Peeta when Katniss has her back turned and puts him in a headlock.

If they were thinking straight, he'd throw him at Katniss, and either they'd both full off, or they'd be in a vulnerable enough position that he could get them off pretty easily, but instead, he starts choking him.

Katniss raises her arrow and aims it at his face, but he laughs. Now, the fear is gone, and it's much easier to hate him again.

"Shoot me and he goes down with me." She hesitates, then just stands there, deep in thought. But she doesn't have time to think. Peeta is starting to suffocate.

Then Peeta manages to raise his hand at the last second and draws an X on the back of Cato's hand, and I can't help but admit that he isn't as stupid as he seems sometimes.

Katniss realizes what he wants just before Cato does, and fires the arrow into his hand. He reflexively lets go, and Peeta slams into him, causing him to slip off the blood-slick surface. For a moment, I worry that Peeta's going to fall too, but Katniss dives forward and manages to catch him an instant before he's on the ground too.

Then, all that there's left to do is wait. I turn away from the TV and start making small talk with Johanna, not wanting to watch him die.

Only the talk continues for an hour. Then two. Then we stop and see Cato, not dead yet because of that stupid armor they'd given him. We immediately look away, not wanting to see what the mutts are going to do next and continue talking. Part of me worries about Peeta's leg, but then I see that Katniss had put a tourniquet on it, so I stop worrying about that. If he loses the leg, it'll be a small price to pay.

Five more hours pass, and I swear that they're the slowest of my life. Every second, every minutes, seems drawn out. Cato moans, and the sounds are so horrible that if I didn't know that the Games could end any moment, I wouldn't be listening.

Then, finally Cato manages to get himself towards the mouth. I cringe when I finally get a decent look at him, because he looks like a dog's old chew toy, not a human being. Bile rises in my throat when I try to imagine how horrible that pain has to be.

Peeta hands Katniss the arrow in his tourniquet and she loads it, leaning over the edge and aiming it at Cato.

"Please," Cato begs, except he doesn't say it, because his face is so bloody and eaten up that he can't even speak. Then she fires, and mercifully it lands right in between the eyes. The cannon fires, and he's dead. They won.

Only no trumpets blare.

Everyone in the room looks at one another in confusion, much like Katniss and Peeta are doing. Finally the two tributes decide that they need to move so that the Capitol can pick up the body, but I know that's not it.

A feeling of dread starts creeping across my stomach, but I hold it back. The Games are done. They have to be.

Slowly, almost painfully, the two of them make their way to the lake, Peeta's leg bleeding horribly. He's going to die if something doesn't happen soon.

Then, Claudius Templesmith's voice booms through the arena.

"Greetings to the final contestants of the Seventy-Four Hunger Games. The earlier revision has been revoked. Closer examination of the rule book has disclosed that only one winner may be allowed. Good luck, and my the odds be ever in your favor."

You have got to be kidding me.

Moans of anger and disgust build, but I shush them, because what happens next could mean the difference between a successful rebellion and death for the districts.

"If you think about it, it's not that surprising," Peeta says softly. Then he reaches for his knife, and I'm ready to call him every foul name I can think of, and Katniss raises her bow, aiming her last arrow at his heart. Then, he throws the knife into the water. With shame crossing her face, she drops the bow on the ground.

"No," he says. "Do it." He limps towards her and picks up her weapons, thrusting them back into her hands.

"I can't. I won't." I'm ready to kill the Gamemakers when this horrible dramatic music starts softly playing in the background. Johanna snorts loudly.

"Do it. Before they send those mutts back or something. I don't want to die like Cato," he says. I can see his eyes watering with tears, and for once I don't even feel like calling him a wimp for it, because I'm very close to crying myself.

"Then you shoot me," she says furiously, shoving the weapons back at him. "You shoot me and go home and live with it!" Does that mean she actually likes him, or is it fear at living in a District where you killed your partner? Or maybe a little bit of both.

"You know I can't," Peeta says, throwing the bow away. "Fine. I'll go first anyway." He leans down and takes off his bandages, sending blood spilling to the earn. Katniss is on her knees in an instant, desperately trying to plaster the blood soaked bandage back on his wound.

"Katniss," he says. "It's what I want."

"You're not leaving me here alone," she says desperately.

"Listen. We both know they have to have a victor. It can only be one of us. Please, take it. For me." Then he keeps going on, giving reasons for her to live instead, but I can't take my eyes off of her, because suddenly her eyes have lit up like they did before she blew up the supplies.

Her hands go down to the pouch at her belt where she'd stored the berries, and Peeta's eyes widen. His hand clamps onto her wrist.

"No, I won't let you."

"Trust me," she whispers. He lets go. She pours half the berries into his hand, half in hers.

"They're both going to die," Johanna whispers. I swallow. They can't do this, they can't.

"On the count of three?" Katniss asks. Peeta leans down and kisses her gently.

"The count of three."

They stand back to back, they're empty hands tightly entwined.

"Hold them out. I want everyone to see," he says. She spreads her fingers out, making the berries perfectly clear to anyone who hadn't seen them before.

"One. Two. Three."

They put the berries in their mouths, and I feel a million different emotions at once. Fear, horror, sorrow, but mostly awe. Then, the trumpets start blaring, and all of those turn into shock.

"Stop! Stop!" Templesmith cries frantically. "Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the victors of the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark! I give you- the tributes of District Twelve."

The room bursts into cheers, and I gape.

If I thought Katniss Everdeen was perfect before, that's nothing compared to what I'm feeling now. She doesn't even need to actually lead us. She just started a rebellion right there.

She outsmarted the Capitol.

The girl on fire is going to burn down the nation of Panem.

* * *

**Okay, that is the grand finale for this story. I really, really hope that you enjoyed the entire million chapter story. I thank everyone for their amazing reviews throughout this whole thing, and if I don't hear from you all again when I start posting the sequel in a month or so, you will be punished severely. Jk, but please keep an eye out for the final installment in my Finnick trilogy, which is going to cover Catching Fire-Mockingjay. **

**Please review, not just for the chapter, but for the story as a whole. **

**Thank you so much for sticking with it for so long. **


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